Growing Up
by Marstri
Summary: Chapter 12 finally added: More fallout from the attack will ultimately be a romance for Snape, but not a quick and easy one also not necessarily what you would predict at the beginning but please RR.
1. Emmeline

Author's note: With gratitude for J.K. Rowling, who created the wonderful world of Harry Potter and so many intriguing characters for us to play with - strictly for amusement and not for profit. The original characters and the rest are my own, and not to be redistributed.

This story, although it is centered on Severus Snape rather than Remus Lupin, covers some of the same events covered in _The Stone House Cats_, albeit from a different point of view, and thus contains a few spoilers for that story, which is already complete. _Growing Up_ focuses on a romance for the Potions Master, although I don't wish to give too much away about his romantic interest – readers of _The Stone House Cats_ and the early parts of this story might be in for a surprise later!

Encouragement makes me write faster, but constructive criticism is appreciated as well!

---------------

Severus Snape was worried.

At first it was a matter of a few isolated incidents, none of them necessarily the product of anything other than pure coincidence. Then the number of incidents started to increase, and their nature became questionable. Severus had been convinced that the Dark Lord had another spy in the Order of the Phoenix long before Sturgis Podmore had been stung by a Billiwig, but it was the presence of the Australian creature that finally forced the Headmaster to agree that it was at least a possibility. When multiple members of the Order had begun to be trailed by Pogrebins, Severus had been amazed that what was happening was not obvious to everyone, but the other members of the Order seemed actually to believe that this was nothing more than a string of bad luck.

The problem was that the identity of the spy – if there was one – was still unknown, and Dumbledore was too cautious to allow Severus to make any overt inquiries among the Death Eaters. Obedient to these instructions, however much they chaffed him, Severus could only "keep his eyes and ears open for anything that might be of assistance" and hope that someone would slip up. His protests that he had already been doing that anyway had been gently but firmly rebuffed by the Headmaster.

Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have suggested the wolf as the first target for additional investigation.

Snape had just settled down to watch the first Quidditch match of the year when he felt the summons; Dumbledore wanted him. He slid a hand casually into his robe to finger the coded talisman, then rose in a nonchalant manner to head back inside.

"You're not going to watch the match, Professor?" Pansy Parkinson inquired coquettishly. She seemed to have returned to Hogwarts at the beginning of her sixth year convinced that she was irresistible when she arranged her pug-like face in a mock pout and peered upwards at her target from under her lashes. He wished wearily that she would limit her use of this new technique to her fellow students. _Watching_ that was nauseating enough without being an unwilling participant. He wondered idly whether she had tried it on Filius too, and, if so, how he was coping.

"Strange as it may seem to some, Miss Parkinson, I can think of more _enticing_ ways to spend an afternoon than watching Mister Potter demonstrate his lack of skill on a broom," he drawled. She giggled in response, and he realized that she had totally misinterpreted the contemptuous sting of his voice and eyes.

In retrospect, he concluded wryly as he headed into the castle, 'enticing' had been a poor choice of words.

The Headmaster was waiting for him in the dungeons.

"Severus," he greeted him, waiting until the Potions Master closed the door behind him and activating the wards himself before continuing. "I'm afraid that there have been further developments. I have received information confirming that there is indeed another spy in the Order, and that it is Emmeline Vance."

_Emmeline!_

An ordinary observer might have thought from Severus' appearance that this news, while interesting, was no more than that. Unfortunately, the Headmaster was not so misled. "I am very sorry, Severus. I should not have sprung the news on you in that fashion."

"It is of no consequence," Severus lied smoothly. Dumbledore would not be deceived, but he would not pursue it. "Is the information reliable?"

"Very," the Headmaster said flatly, "but anything you can come up with would be helpful." Severus nodded his acceptance of the task, and went to work with a heavy heart.

It was remarkably easy to confirm that Emmeline Vance was indeed the spy - once he knew where to look. That was the frustrating thing about intelligence work - the evidence was there when you made a really determined effort to find it, but it was much harder to discover when you were not looking in the right place. It was simply impossible to watch everyone else all the time as a matter of routine.

Once Severus knew it was her, he did not even have to search for the reason for this betrayal. It was obvious - Lucius. Lucius with his suave blond charm, and his beautiful family, and his perfect life. Lucius, who had no reason to seek out another woman to bed - and who had done it anyway.

_Why did it have to be her?_

Emmeline was a little younger than Lucius, and a little older in Severus - just old enough to be out of reach in their school days for anything but his adolescent fantasies. Her long fall of silky dark curls was the stuff dreams were made of, and her wide, deep blue eyes set in that perfect porcelain skin seemed to hint at unimaginable pleasures. He had noticed her almost immediately his first night at Hogwarts; somehow, she seemed to have imprinted herself on his psyche so that, having seen Emmeline, no other woman would do.

His first year, he had worshipped her as a distant and perfect goddess, rather despising Lucius Malfoy for concealing their relationship. Lucius was very good at concealing things, but Severus, even then, was better at finding them out. Lucius was not worthy of Emmeline, of course, but Severus knew with all the conviction of his pre-adolescent heart that if Emmeline had chosen _him_, he would have wanted the world to know. She wasn't in Slytherin, to be sure, but Ravenclaw was a respectable house - she was not one of the prats in Gryffindor or the idiots of Hufflepuff.

He mentally dismissed Lucius as a fool, and went on worshipping Emmeline in silence.

His second year, with Lucius gone, he watched from the sidelines as various contenders competed for Emmeline's attentions, rather pleased that she did not seem overly attached to any of them. By the beginning of his third year, his thoughts about Emmeline took a definite turn as his hormones kicked in. By the fourth year - her last at Hogwarts - his ideas about worshipping Emmeline were almost wholly centered on demonstrating his worship on Emmeline's delectable body in a very carnal way. She remained the object of his fantasies long after she - and even he - had left the school.

They had not had much contact since then until recently - for some reason, their paths had not crossed until the second incarnation of the Order of the Phoenix. His activities as a spy the first time had meant that only Dumbledore had known of his true allegiances, and Severus had certainly not attended any meetings.

They were rather better prepared this time, and Severus had managed to convince the Dark Lord that he should serve as a double-agent, which at least allowed him to attend meetings of the Order in person rather than waiting to be de-briefed by the Headmaster later. It was a difficult cover to maintain, as he needed to constantly juggle who knew - or ought to know - each of numerous pieces of data he collected, but his complex mind had managed it so far.

Apparently, Emmeline had been managing it too - but her true allegiance was a different one. Even in the midst of his pain over the discovery that his goddess had feet of clay, he felt a twinge of admiration for her skill in deceiving him. It was only a twinge, however, for it was too easy with the benefit of hindsight to identify mistakes. Still, she had managed to dupe him for quite some time. His lips twisted at the thought. Was her success a result of her own skill, or his peculiar weakness? Dumbledore had been fooled as well, which was a tiny morsel of comfort.

He reported back to Dumbledore some time later.

"Emmeline was the special source of information Lucius has been using to bolster his position, however it seems that the Dark Lord has grown impatient with her. The Fidelius Charm has limited her usefulness. According to Avery, she was summoned last Saturday to account for the inadequacies of her performance. Avery thinks Lucius overplayed his hand. Emmeline has provided nothing of real value, and her relationship with Lucius is obvious."

The Headmaster looked rather grave. "Knowing we've managed to protect the secrets of the Order is something, but I admit that I'm rather worried about Emmeline."

"One cannot expect the Dark Lord to tolerate her existence much longer," Severus confirmed reluctantly. "Another week or two at most. However, I should point out that my evaluation of the situation is based solely on information obtained secondhand."

"Should we be concerned about that?" Dumbledore asked. Severus considered.

"I don't think this is an indication of any unusual suspicion on his part – more a matter of the habits of paranoia. He's been using Emmeline and me to check the other's reports. I have gone over my recent reports again in light of this development, but I do not believe there is any cause for alarm. Emmeline is another matter."

"Grimmauld Place will be cleared out this week, and I will be able to replace the previous Fidelius Charm with the new one limiting access to you and Emmeline – although I suspect it is not a use for his home of which Sirius would have approved," the Headmaster conceded.

"Have you informed her –" Severus began, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"I confess that I'm not looking forward to that conversation," he admitted.

"How did you find out that the spy was Emmeline?"

Dumbledore replied cautiously. "I had received some information from another source."

"I see," Severus replied coolly. The Headmaster sighed.

"Her name is Cassandra Celarevos, and she is staying with Remus Lupin."

Severus raised an eyebrow derisively. "_Cassandra Celarevos_," he repeated sarcastically. "Am I to presume that all the _obvious _assumed names were already taken?"

"I thought it was rather clever," the Headmaster replied mildly. "_She is concealing things from you, yet must be believed._" Severus snorted.

"What, exactly, is she concealing?"

"Probably quite a bit," Dumbledore admitted. He studied the younger man across from him for a long moment. "She will become a member of the Order in the future," he said at last.

Snape felt a wave of shock ripple through him. "She came back in _time_?" he demanded harshly. "How far?" The Headmaster's pale eyes were grave.

"I don't know. I thought it would be better not to – this is dangerous enough already."

Snape repressed several appropriate responses to that and asked instead, "Why is she still here?"

"Because we haven't dealt with Emmeline. I did not want to act without confirmation in such a matter."

"I thought you had concluded that her information was '_very_' reliable."

"However much she believed it to be true, she could have been mistaken," the Headmaster pointed out, "although perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I hoped she was." His eyes met Severus' over his half moon glasses, and their pale light held a hint of pain. "I knew Emmeline when she was a child, you know, and she was –" he broke off abruptly with a brief shake of his head. "An old man's folly. Still, Remus has kept Miss Celarevos well-concealed, so the delay itself should not be the source of too much difficulty. I am more concerned about how quickly Voldemort will decide to act against Emmeline. You think it will be soon?"

"I do."

"Then we'd best be ready. This is what I have in mind . . . "

--------------

Severus was one of three people standing in the small, but well-furnished drawing room of Emmeline Vance. Emmeline, who might have looked, well, almost _petulant_ if she were not so beautiful, was across from him. The third figure, a woman cloaked in blue, was standing near the front window.

They had been there too long already.

"Emmeline, _please_." It was a word Severus rarely used, but things were getting desperate. They were lucky he had found out from Avery that the order had been given and was to be carried out tonight. 'Cassandra Celarevos' was scanning for signs of the arrival of the Death Eaters. It was already starting to get dark, and Severus had been arguing fruitlessly with Emmeline for far too long.

Emmeline's eyes were unfriendly.

"Really, Severus, these accusations are ridiculous, and if you think you're going to convince me to run away and hide somewhere – "

"_Expelliaramus!"_ Cassandra caught Emmeline's wand neatly and tossed it to him. "They're here. Stun her if you have to, but get her _out_ of here." Emmeline gaped. Severus grabbed her arm and took a step forward to look out the window himself. He didn't waste breath swearing as he pulled the shocked and finally unresisting woman out the back door.

He dragged her to a number of other destinations, Apparating from one to another – even repeating a few destinations – in an effort to ensure that they could not be pursued. Finally they were standing outside the Black family home that had served as the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Here?" Emmeline asked, frowning. "Why can't I see it?" Severus retrieved the slip of parchment on which Dumbledore had written earlier and handed it to her.

"New Fidelius Charm," he explained as she read it. He reached out to retrieve it when she finished, but she was slipping it absently into a pocket of her robes.

"You want me to _stay _here?"

"Emmeline, the Dark Lord has ordered Lucius to bring you before him," he explained for what seemed to be the thousandth time as he ushered her inside. "If you stay here you'll be safe."

Emmeline promptly burst into tears.

As they were still in the hallway when she did this, the noise woke Mrs. Black's portrait, which began shrieking insults from beneath its thick covers. Severus pulled Emmeline into the drawing room and shut the door. She wilted gracefully onto a sofa, continuing to cry into a lace handkerchief.

Emmeline was one of the few fortunate women in the world who could cry attractively. Crystalline tear drops rained down her porcelain cheeks, and the dazed look in her eyes seemed to make them bluer rather than red. The sight was very affecting.

Severus was very uncomfortable.

He had absolutely no idea how to respond, and wished desperately that Dumbledore would arrive. Instead of feeling like a highly skilled professional, he was suddenly a gawky sniveling schoolboy again, and he resented the feeling.

"Why are you crying?" he demanded, irritable and bewildered. "You're alive, aren't you?"

Emmeline cast a single reproachful glance at him out of her deep blue eyes. They were brilliant with tears, and artistically fringed with long, dark – and damp – lashes. Then her sobs intensified._ Damn and blast!_

"_Don't cry_," he directed desperately in a poor imitation of his classroom manner. "Stop it this instant!"

Emmeline ignored him.

_I'm yelling at a woman in distress, and acting like an ass. What the hell am I supposed to do?_ The Headmaster would have known how to deal with this – hell, even the wolf would probably have had her settled down by now. _I'll be _damned_ before I admit that beast would be better suited for any task Dumbledore could give us! _

_What would the Headmaster do? I don't have any lemon drops,_ he thought helplessly.

"Clearly you require time to compose yourself," Severus announced loudly over Emmeline's sobs and the muffled shouting from the portrait in the hall. "I will make us some tea." He fled to the kitchen.

When the Headmaster did finally arrive, Severus was at his wits' end. Emmeline had accepted the tea, sniffling back the tears that had subsided into occasional weak sobs, but he had the sense that he was not really getting through to her about the danger she was in, and he didn't think he could stand to see her cry much longer. Another image of a dark-haired woman in tears flitted through his mind, but he pushed the painful memory away.

"Lucius Malfoy and Georgeson Goyle are in the custody of the Ministry," Dumbledore informed them. "Kingsley and Tonks brought them in." Emmeline, looking defeated, sniffled slightly and dabbed at her eyes. She did not look up at Albus Dumbledore, who was regarding her with a sad gravity more effective than any other reproach could have been.

"What about –" Severus began, remembering the woman who had stayed behind.

The Headmaster's eyes were troubled. There was a pause. "We don't know," he said at last. "There was no one else on the scene when Kingsley and Tonks arrived." Severus tensed.

"There were four Death Eaters there," Severus informed him edgily. "What about the other two?"

The Headmaster didn't say anything, but then he didn't have to.

_This is all my fault, _Severus thought sickly_. I should have gotten her to leave more quickly. We could have been gone before they arrived._

"I would like to have a word with Emmeline now," the Headmaster said gently. "I will see you back to school later." Severus nodded his head with a jerk and strode out of the room, leaving Dumbledore alone with the woman who had betrayed them all.

-------------

Severus got through the next few days reasonably well, despite the oppressive sense of guilt he was forced to conceal. Things might have been better if he had been able to get some sleep that first night, or if he were not obliged, as Draco's Head of House, to inform him that his father had been imprisoned as soon as Narcissa's owl reached the school the following morning. He was genuinely fond of the boy, and now every time he looked at him, Severus felt another searing pang of guilt at the role he had played in depriving Draco of his father.

On the other hand, Lucius was still alive, and the Headmaster would not allow him to come to undue harm in the custody of the Ministry, whereas 'Cassandra Celarevos' was probably dead – or at least wishing that she was. His inadequacies had cost them a member of the Order.

He didn't even know her real name, but she had seemed to be a potential asset. She had managed to stick to the point when the two of them had spoken beforehand at the wolf's place about the mission, and she had allowed him to talk to Emmeline without interference until the Death Eaters arrived. Then she had acting calmly, and efficiently – and had taken on four Death Eaters alone to give him time to drag Emmeline away. She had trusted him to do his part in handling Emmeline, and he had failed. Despite this, she had still tossed Emmeline's wand to _him_ when the Death Eaters arrived.

If she was as intelligent as it seemed she might be, she had to know she was going to die.

He could barely look the Headmaster in the eye even before he was summoned to his office less than a week after it had happened.

"Have a seat, Severus," Dumbledore greeted him kindly.

"Thank you, I prefer to stand," he replied stiffly. The Headmaster peered over the tops of his half-moon spectacles at him.

"Sit down, Severus," he directed firmly. Feeling like an errant schoolboy and trying not to look like one, he sat down more abruptly than was typical. Severus did not say anything, and the Headmaster sighed slightly.

"Severus, this was not your fault," he told him firmly, easily reading the disbelief in the grimly stoic expression of his Potions Master. "Emmeline can be – stubborn at times, and she was not ready to accept what you had to tell her." Severus' mouth set in a line as his lips compressed, but the Headmaster persisted. "It is a very difficult thing to credit an outsider's claim that someone you love and trust has betrayed you in such a way. Even after seeing the Death Eaters coming, there's still a part of her that is looking for another explanation for what happened." Dumbledore's expression was both knowing and slightly sad. "I don't believe there are any other words you could have used that would have convinced her to leave more quickly." There was a long silence during which Severus stared fixedly at an antique model of the moment of the planets which sat on a nearby table. The Headmaster waited patiently for him to speak.

"When they came," Severus said with difficulty at last, "she disarmed her and told me to stun her if I had to in order for us to get away. I could have done that earlier. Before they came. Then we would have been gone when they got there, and –"

"I would have been disappointed in you if you had." The Headmaster's gentle words were enough to jerk the Potion Master's eyes away from the model to meet Dumbledore's. They were as kind and compassionate as ever.

"Why? If I had taken action instead of –"

"If you had attacked her unnecessarily? If you had not bothered to try to speak with her instead, to resolve this without resorting to knocking her out? You think I would have been proud of you then? Really, Severus, I thought you knew me better than that."

There was a passing hint of vulnerability in Potions Master's hard black eyes for just a moment. "When Cassandra –"

"If I understand correctly what happened, Miss Celarevos was acting as lookout. She had information you did not, and even she merely disarmed Emmeline and suggested stunning her if necessary to save her life." The Headmaster's expression was full of compassion. "You made fine choices with the information you had, Severus. I'm proud of how you handled yourself, and I have no reason to blame you for anything that may have happened." Severus acknowledged this with a short jerk of his head which did not indicate acceptance, but Dumbledore was wise enough not to press him further just then.

"How is Draco doing?" the Headmaster inquired instead. Severus refocused his mind gratefully.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"Oh?"

"Even knowing that his father was not particularly fond of him, the loss of prestige is difficult to bear. He has been holding his own through the force of his personality – I think that less of his status was due to his family name and position than he realized." There was a tinge of pride in his voice as he spoke of Draco. "But I'm afraid he may attempt to avenge his father, or take some other steps to regain his lost stature which would not be – prudent."

"Do not underestimate his bond with Lucius," Dumbledore cautioned. "Children have been known to remain remarkably attached to their parents even when those parents treat them a good deal worse than I suspect Lucius has treated Draco." The Headmaster's eyes were a little too knowing, and Severus rose abruptly to take his leave.

"I will continue to monitor his behavior and advise you of anything that merits your attention," he said coolly. Then he gave a brief bow and strode from the room.


	2. Marian Melody

A/N – Sorry about the delay in getting another part out.  While a fair amount of the story was already written, unfortunately the second part was not, and I've been a little busy lately.

If any of you are wondering about Severus' relationship with Emmeline – well, I don't like to give too much away, but she isn't one of my favorite characters – and for those of you who have read _The Stone House Cats_, Catherine isn't always right.

-------------

Severus returned to the school in the early hours of the morning.  Despite his exhaustion, he preferred this time of day – nearly everyone was asleep in bed, with one important exception.  When he was safely warded in his dungeon apartments, he sent the signal on his talisman and waited.  A few minutes later, the Headmaster stepped out of the fireplace, still fully dressed and as alert as usual.

"Good evening, Severus – or should I say good morning?  I trust that everything went well?"

"I assume that 'well' is a relative term," Severus said sarcastically.  "The Dark Lord is annoyed about the capture of Lucius and Georgeson, but he was positively _furious_ that Emmeline got away.  We've all been ordered to kill her on sight if we can't capture her, strongly enough that anyone who lets her escape a second time might just as well commit suicide and be done with it."

"That bad?"

"He was definitely not pleased.  He's forbidden his followers to try to free Lucius and Georgeson without explicit permission.  I think it's intended as a reminder of the risks of forgetting your place or failing – maybe both.  I do have one piece of news though."

"Oh?"

"I think the other two might have been the LeStranges.  Their expressions were a little too carefully blank tonight.  Bellatrix is generally a little more obvious in her support.  If she wasn't, it's because she's under orders to keep quiet."

"Really?"  The Headmaster looked thoughtful.  "Voldemort has always thought very highly of them, Bellatrix in particular.  Any chance her position is precarious enough to –"  But Severus was shaking his head.

"Not a chance," he said flatly.  "After what they went through in Azkaban, they'll have to screw up a lot worse than this to be in any real danger."

There was a short silence, which Dumbledore broke.  "Any news about –"

"No."

The silence this time was longer.

"Well, let us hope that the absence of news is, in this case, a good sign.  Perhaps Miss Celarevos was able to complete her mission and return to her time of origin."

Severus decided a change of subject was in order.  "The other major topic tonight was recruiting.  The Dark Lord seeks allies among the Dark Creatures, particularly those with no reason to support the Ministry.  Vampires and werewolves were mentioned particularly."

"Oh?"

"It would be wise to start our own evaluation of these matters."

"People, Severus," Dumbledore reminded him very gently.  "They _are_ still people."

_I am really not in the mood for this,_ Severus thought. 

"So," he pointed out, "is Peter Pettigrew."

-----------

More time had passed than he expected before Severus was able to visit Grimmauld Place again.  He had rather hoped that Emmeline would look forward to seeing him, so he couldn't help being a little disappointed when she caught sight of him and muttered, "Oh, it's you," rather blankly. 

"Yes, I thought you might enjoy some additional reading material," he told her.  He had very little idea what she would like to read, but he brought a selection of fairly current periodicals – some current enough that Dumbledore had directed him to excise certain articles before allowing Emmeline to see them – as well as a few works of fiction and a couple academic journals, so he was hopeful that there would be something to interest her.

Her reaction was initially unenthusiastic, but then she perked up.  "Is that _Witch Weekly_?" she asked, reaching for it immediately.  "There's supposed to be a feature this week on the latest styles for long hair," she added blithely, leafing through the magazine until she found it.  She settled down to read in utter absorption.  He set the remainder of the reading material down on a convenient side table.

"I should be happy to make some tea, if you wish," he suggested awkwardly.

"Do that," she agreed absently.

Emmeline did set the magazine down when Severus returned with the tea tray.

"You're enjoying the magazine?" he ventured as she started to pour.  Emmeline made a face.

"There's a big piece cut out just where the photographs are," she complained. 

"I'm sorry about that."

"It's not your fault.  At least it's something to read," she stirred her tea disconsolately.

"If you let me know what your preferences are, perhaps I could bring you some more fiction."  Emmeline brightened.

"Marian Melody is coming out with a new novel soon, but any of her old ones would be nice too."

"I'll see if I can pick one up for you."

Emmeline nodded, apparently satisfied.  Then she lowered her head slightly so that she was looking up through her lashes at him.

"How are things at the Ministry?" she asked with a very innocent air.  Severus tensed inwardly.

"I understood that the Headmaster informed you that we will not be passing along any news items that might compromise your security."

"I don't see how just telling me how things are going could violate that," Emmeline coaxed.  "It's not as though I'm asking you to carry messages to him, I just want to know if –"

"No, Emmeline.  I'm not going to go against Dumbledore's orders.  If you want to argue about it, argue with him."

"It isn't _arguing_ just to ask –" She saw Severus' lips compress and stopped.  "Oh, very _well_.  But I think you're being rather silly about the whole thing.  If I could just get a current newspaper, or even –"

Severus rose, setting his teacup down as he did.  "I'm sorry, Emmeline, but I'm afraid I have to be going."

Emmeline rose as well, stepping closer and catching hold of his arm.  Her perfume rose about them, a faint intoxicating fragrance that acted powerfully on his senses.  "Please don't be mad at me," she pleaded.  When she was looking up at him like that, he wanted to promise her anything she wanted.

"I'm not mad at you," he said with difficulty, stepping back as he spoke, "but I'm afraid I really do have to go."

He made his normal appearance at dinner, then had to take care of a detention – that idiot Flinch-Fletchley boy from Hufflepuff again – and grade a stack of third year essays before he was finally free to go to bed. 

Once asleep, he was haunted by confusing dreams of a dark-haired woman in tears, and a pair of eyes that kept changing from frightened black to beguiling blue.

----------

The next time Severus was able to get away to Hogsmead, he spent some time in the local bookstore looking for anything by Marian Melody but was unable to find her work.  He finally went in search of Magnus, the owner.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me where I might find the novels of Marian Melody?"

Magnus' jaw dropped. 

"You want _what?_"

"A novel by Marian Melody," Snape elucidated impatiently.  "Do you carry them, or know where I can find one?"

"Oh, we carry them, all right," the proprietor confirmed, recovering a little.  "Can't afford not to, whatever I think of them myself.  They sell too well.  But I have to say, I never thought I'd hear _you_ ask for one."

"Now that you have, would you be kind enough to point them out?" 

Magnus looked at him very doubtfully, but shrugged and led him over to a corner of the store Severus had rarely visited before.  Usually just walking by it was enough to make him slightly sick.

"There you are," Magnus was pointing to a circular display rack in deep crimson that shot fountains of hearts into the air every few minutes to drift down in front of the shelves. 

Snape looked at it blankly.  The first cover he saw showed an artistically disheveled blond witch sagging into the extremely muscular arms of a bare-chested wizard.  She gasped out, "_You saved me_!" and the wizard caught her theatrically in his arms and began to kiss her passionately.  She responded with enthusiasm, and things progressed in a way that made Severus wonder how the books were allowed to be publicly displayed.  Then, at the last instant, purple mist concealed the cover art and showed only the title in an ornate scroll.

"_This_ is what Marian Melody writes?" he asked weakly.

"Everything on the rack," Magnus confirmed.  "Prolific, but then all the stories are the same, so I expect that makes it easier to churn them out," he said knowledgeably.  "You didn't know what you were asking for?"

"_No_," Severus said shortly.  A moment later, he felt compelled to add, "I offered to pick up something for a friend who wasn't able to make it in to town." 

Magnus nodded his comprehension, casually watching a miniature witch in a nearly transparent nightgown fleeing from some unseen horror just outside the edge of the book.  "I didn't think this was much to your taste, but I've been surprised before.  You'd be amazed at how popular these are."

Severus caught sight of a cover displaying an interesting use of an Inflating Charm, and replied, "I'm surprised it's legal to keep these on open display."

"They don't classify them as pornography, despite the content.  I can't decide if it's because the regulators _haven't_ read them or because they _have_, and want to be able to continue doing so without admitting what they're reading," Magnus observed.  "Were you looking for any particular title?"

"Which is the most recent?"

Magnus indicated one of the volumes, and Severus lifted it out of the display rack – just as he heard a voice behind him that he fervently wished he did not recognize.

"I just _knew_ your soul was a _sensitive_ one, despite the false front you present to the world!  I am glad to see you acknowledging your spirit's need for nourishment, for the soul feeds on _love_, _beauty_, _poetry_ – the _finer_ things that so few of us _truly_ appreciate.  But of course, _I _knew all along that yours was a kindred spirit, a –"

"Unfortunately, I must disillusion you, Sybill," Severus said icily.  Of all the people in the world, Sybill Trelawney had to be one of the ones he least wanted to encounter.  Why the devil hadn't she stayed in her tower?  "I am picking this up for someone else."

"But _surely_ you know you need not conceal your tender heart from _me_?" Sybill protested, fluttering closer.  "Indeed, such pretenses are _useless _when one has been _gifted_ as _I _have with the –"

"Wrap this up for me, please," Severus demanded of Magnus, cutting his co-worker short.  Although his expression was professionally neutral, Magnus slipped the novel into a plain bag very quickly.

"I'll charge it to your account, shall I?" Magnus told him, handing over the package.  Severus nodded and strode out, trying not to look as though he were fleeing the store.

-----------

Severus stared down at the bag containing the Marian Melody novel in the safety of his chambers.

_I'm being too critical.  Magnus said lots of people read these.  Of course Emmeline has her own tastes.  It doesn't have to be the same as mine – that's not being fair to her.  I haven't even read it, and I'm judging her because of something I haven't even read._

_So just read it, and you'll know,_ another part of his mind suggested. 

He pulled the novel out of the bag with some hesitation.  This one was titled _Which Witch?_ and the cover art immediately began to play before him.  It showed a handsome blond wizard with a vague resemblance to Gilderoy Lockhart being approached by a dark-haired witch apparently bent on seducing him, while another witch who looked like her more demurely dressed twin looked on sadly.  Without waiting for the vignette to play out, he flipped the novel over to read the summary on the back.

_Despite the fact that they are twins, sweet-natured Dulce and vixenish Desiree have very little in common – until Lord Bryant enters the picture!  Desiree is determined to marry the wealthy new pureblood lord sight unseen – but even her jaded appetite is aroused by his fair charm.  Dulce would be content to let Desiree do as she pleases – until she realizes that the handsome Lord Bryant is none other than her childhood friend Aidan, now returned from the war that separated them for so many years.  _

_Dulce sets out to save Aidan from Desiree, convincing herself that this is nothing more than an altruistic gesture of friendship – only to find her heart engaged!  How will Lord Bryant choose between them?  Can true love win out in the end?  Or will Aidan's final choice bring only heartache when he is forced to decide – _

_Which Witch?_

Severus stared at the copy, not at all reassured, but fortunately for him, there was a knock on the door before he had to decide whether he was really going to open the cover and start reading this pap.

"Headmaster," he greeted the white-haired wizard, stepping back to allow him to step into his chambers.

"Emmeline asked for some personal items," Dumbledore explained, handing Severus a neatly wrapped package as the door closed behind them.  "I wondered if you would drop them off the next time you're there?"

"Yes, of course."

"How is Draco doing?"

Severus' mouth twisted slightly.  "Blaise Zabini challenged him in the common room last night – I'm not supposed to know about it – but he backed down when Crabbe and Goyle made it clear they were still with Draco.  Miss Parkinson isn't helping matters – with Lucius in jail, she's been advised that Draco is no longer a suitable escort."

Dumbledore grimaced slightly.  "Priscilla?"

"Probably," Severus admitted, and the Headmaster sighed.  "Pansy's picked up Nott instead, and Draco has taken up with Mandy Brocklehurst of Ravenclaw.  He's more upset about Pansy than he lets on.  He must have thought she cared enough for him personally to stand by him."

Dumbledore regarded him very seriously.  "First loves are very precious to all of us – yes, even to Slytherins," he added when Severus gave a brief snort.  There was something about the way the Headmaster was looking at Snape that made him slightly uncomfortable.  "Draco and Pansy have known each other for a long time.  She's a part of his childhood memories.  Letting go of the image he held of her from childhood and seeing her as the woman she is becoming is a necessary part of growing up, but a very painful one."

"Why, exactly, is it necessary?"  Severus grumbled.  "If things had gone as they expected, the two of them could have grown up, gotten married, and lived happily ever after," he said sardonically.

"You prefer the illusion?" the Headmaster questioned gravely.  "Pansy's feelings for him, the degree of loyalty she was willing to show him, would not be any different.  The only difference would have been that Draco would never have known just how limited they really were.  If he comes through this, he will be better prepared for a real, adult relationship."  Snape shifted slightly under the Headmaster's gaze, not sure what to say.

"Well, thank you for agreeing to drop those off for me," Dumbledore continued briskly.  "And Severus – do be careful."


	3. Widow with Three Children

A/N – A very long part this time, but there's a character who needed to be introduced – and, I hope, a few surprises!

-------------

**Spring 1997 (sixth year)**

As winter gave way to spring, life was looking up for Severus Snape.  He was cautiously optimistic about his relationship with Emmeline.  Obviously he couldn't get away from the school very often, but she now seemed pleased to see him when he did arrive at Grimmauld Place.  He managed to get over his distaste for the Marian Melody novels she preferred when he saw how pleased she was to receive them.  Furthermore, she no longer asked after Lucius immediately, apparently accepting that Severus was not going to be persuaded to deliver any messages to him on her behalf.  Granted, these were very small measures of progress, but he had already waited for Emmeline a very long time.  He could wait a little longer.

The Potter boy was doing well enough in Occlumency to allow Severus to reduce the frequency of their training sessions so he didn't have to see him as often.  The wolf was still away on a mission and wasn't due back until the end of the term.  Draco was still holding his own among the Slytherins (and the rest of his classmates) and doing some really exemplary work in Advanced Potions.  All in all, Snape mused as he stared out the window in the hall outside the staff room, life was pretty good.

Then he squinted into the distance.

A figure was approaching, flying in by broomstick over the Forbidden Forrest.  Severus frowned.  Most legitimate visitors to the school came from Hogsmead, avoiding that route.  His fingers moved automatically to the coded talisman hidden beneath his robes.  Hesitating, he finally decided on a low-level alert and started making his way to the Entrance Hall.

He was waiting on the steps outside before she landed, so he had time to arrange his expression after he recognized her.  She was wearing light blue-gray robes under a matching cloak, the fabric of the hood pooling loosely around her shoulders as she strode forward, her face exposed to the world.

"Good afternoon.  Could you tell me how to get to the Headmaster's Office?" she asked briskly, and then Dumbledore was coming down the steps behind him.

"If you're looking for the Headmaster, I'm afraid he isn't in his office," Albus told her, his light eyes twinkling over the half-moon glasses he habitually wore.  "I'm Albus Dumbledore.  Welcome to Hogwarts."

The woman Severus had known as 'Cassandra Celarevos' responded with a quick flash of a smile.  "Catherine Clare," she said, extending her hand.  "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Catherine Clare," the Headmaster repeated slowly, retaining her hand for a long moment as he searched her face.  "Of course," he said with an air of discovery as he released her, "Miranda and Richard's daughter."

"Please call me Catherine," she suggested, with barely detectible irony in her voice. 

"Fair enough," Dumbledore chuckled.  "This is Severus Snape, our Potions Master."

"Miss Clare," Severus intoned formally, with a brief and businesslike nod.

"Professor," she replied simply, but he could tell from the expression in her eyes that she was amused rather than intimidated.

"What brings you to Hogwarts, Catherine?" Dumbledore asked.

"I was hoping someone here might be able to help me locate an alumnus," she said immediately.  "He would have been a student here in the seventies, by the name of Remus Lupin?"

"Oh, yes, I remember Remus," the Headmaster told her easily.  "I didn't know the two of you were acquainted."

"Actually, we're not," Catherine said frankly, "but I do need to get in touch with him, and I've had some difficulty trying to reach him.  Do you have a current address for him?"

"I think I may be able to help you," Dumbledore said casually.  "Why don't we step up to my office and continue this conversation there?"  He steered her smoothly away, nodding a good-bye to Severus and leaving the younger man standing on the steps wondering what to make of this.

Severus was left to wonder the rest of the day and all through dinner.  He was finally able to manage a private word with the Headmaster late that evening, when the students and most of the faculty had retired for the night.

"Well?" he demanded impatiently.

"What are you expecting me to tell you?" 

Severus frowned at him.  "Well, it was her, wasn't it?"

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore agreed patiently.  "But then, you already knew that," he reminded Severus gently.

"Did you warn her?"

"No."

Severus said something extremely unfit for polite company.

"Really, Severus."

"She's going to _die_."  Dammit, he had enough lives on his conscience without adding another one unnecessarily.  He knew they blamed him for the death of Sirius Black, even if no one ever said so.  If he had been able to keep the Potter boy from being lured away from Hogwarts, Black would never have been able to use him as an excuse to leave Grimmauld Place and get himself killed.  But they could still _fix_ this one even if there was nothing he could do about any of the others. 

"We don't know that," Dumbledore told him.

"But –"

"And even if we did, I don't think it's something that can be fixed with a simple warning.  We're meddling with _time_, Severus, and whatever happened has _already happened_.  There are limits to what we can do to alter it."

"I hardly think –"

"What if she decided not to come back?"

Severus fell silent.

"I'm sure I didn't agree to send her back lightly, Severus.  I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think she understood the risks.  And please remember that she made a choice – whatever happened was_ not your fault._"

The younger man ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair.  It was one thing to live with the knowledge of the consequences of your mistakes, but it was quite another to have a woman you had gotten _killed_ walk up and introduce herself to you.

"I could coach her," he said at last.  "So at least she would have a decent chance –"

"No, Severus."

"Tell her it's a requirement to join the Order!"

"I can't do that."  Dumbledore was looking at him with something dangerously close to pity in his eyes.  "She would discover the truth very quickly from someone else, and wonder why she was singled out."

"We could just –"

"Severus, it is vitally important that you do _nothing_ that would interfere with the timeline.  She doesn't know anything about Emmeline or her own involvement in that mission.  I still have no idea how it came about, but it needs to be left to happen naturally."

Severus turned the problem over in his mind.  "We could start a general program of combat training for _everyone_," he proposed.

"Just in time for Catherine to benefit from it?  No, Severus."  Dumbledore studied the younger man's face, and sighed.  "You can propose a general program of training when something happens to justify it – _but not before_." 

And with that, Severus had to be content.

-----------

**Summer 1997 (after sixth year)**

Adrienne was already waiting in the lobby when Catherine appeared in one of the arrival fireplaces.  Catherine was wearing one of the neutral gray robes she wore for court appearances as an Auror and looked coolly composed.  Adrienne rose and waved to attract her attention.  Catherine smiled when she saw her, and crossed the intervening space with quick, light footsteps.

"Adrienne, how are you doing?" Catherine asked with genuine concern.  Adrienne returned her hug before replying.

"Fairly well, actually, all things considered," she said, wondering if it would ever be finished.  Catherine shot her a quick glance of sympathetic understanding as she took hold of her arm to lead her through security.  Adrienne gave the official routine only a small part of her attention.

Catherine's wand always passed very quickly, the longest part of the process being the recitation of her identity for the record kept at the public entrance, "Catherine Miranda Clare, Office of the Prosecutor General, active, Auror reserve, retired from active duty."  Adrienne knew that Catherine could have bypassed the security checks at the public entrance, but her friend always accompanied her, for which Adrienne was deeply grateful.  In the beginning, Catherine had picked her up at the house instead, but that had been right after it happened -

"Ten inches, rosewood with a core of Veela hair," the official intoned.  "Full name?"

"Adrienne Sophie Richaud Kearney."  The duty wizard glanced at the writing magically appearing on both the parchment log and her claim check.

"You've been here before?"

"Yes."

"Same case, same status?"

"Yes."

"Courtroom 103," he told her, handing her the claim check.

"Thank you."

They started down the hall to the courtroom. 

"How are the kids doing?" Catherine asked.  Adrienne appreciated the distraction.

"Tristan's doing well in school.  Garrett is still a bit of a handful."

"Grace will be ready for primary school soon, won't she?" Catherine asked, an odd note in her voice that Adrienne immediately understood.

"Only one more year," Adrienne admitted.  Had it really been that long?

Inside the courtroom, Catherine nodded to her colleague, a businesslike blond witch busily reviewing her notes, before she and Adrienne took seats on the first bench on the prosecution side.  In a few moments, they brought in the defendant, magically bound, and his attendant nodded to the bailiff.

"All rise."  Adrienne stood automatically, no longer needing the support of Catherine's hand on her arm as she had when this started.

"Be seated," the senior of the three judges intoned automatically.  "Court is now in session."  He opened the file waiting on the surface in front of him and adjusted his reading glasses slightly.  "People versus Kevin George Wilcox, final sentencing hearing.  We've reviewed the pre-sentencing report and the submissions of both parties.  Are both sides ready to proceed at this time?"  There was an obligatory double echo in response.

"Kevin Wilcox, you stand convicted of the felony murder of Robert Allan Kearney, it having been found that you did cause the death of Robert Allan Kearney pursuant to the commission of the felony crime of flight to escape lawful arrest.  Does the prosecution wish to address the court on the issue of sentencing?"

The prosecutor was on her feet, but Adrienne let most of what she was saying wash over her.  Fragments impinged on her consciousness - "Duty" - "aggravating factor" - "Aurors Kearney and Clare" - "heinous" and then "widow with three children." 

That was her label here - "widow with three children" - but how was that supposed to encapsulate everything she was any more than "Auror" told everything there was to be known about her wonderful Bobby?  She felt Catherine reach over to clasp her hand as the defendant's counsel took his turn.  "Troubled childhood" - "in mitigation" - "deeply regret" - "tragic misunderstanding" - and at last, he too fell silent.

"As you know, Mrs. Kearney, pursuant to the victims' rights statute, you have a right to address the court at this time.  Do you wish to do so?"  She had to drop Catherine's hand to rise and face the court.

She had meant to tell them how wonderful Bobby had been, her jovial bear of a husband who had brought such joy to her life.  She had rehearsed it all in her mind, but her throat tightened now and the practiced eloquence was out of her reach.  "Robert was a good husband and a good father," she said at last, "the father of three children, although he never got to know the third.  Grace is almost four now, and he never got to see her."  He hadn't even known he was going to be a father again, but then she'd put that in the written statement already, an official-looking document that she had agonized over with "_Victim Impact Statement_" across the top. 

"I don't know how to reduce everything he was into something I can add to the record," she said at last, trying not to choke on the words.  Then the stiffening went out of her knees and she sat down abruptly.

After a quick glance to confirm that she was finished, and a few more rote phrases that meant nothing to her, the Silencing Charm went up and there was a brief conference among the judges.  When they deactivated the charm, there were more meaningless phrases before they finally got to the part everyone was waiting for - "a term of forty years to life in prison" - and Adrienne was thankful she was still sitting down. 

For the first time that day, she looked over at the defendant, pale-faced and barely listening to his attorney's low-voiced counsel as the jurists completed the formality of reviewing and signing the sentencing documents.  He seemed oddly _smaller _than she remembered.

"Has the court had an opportunity to consider the people's motion regarding designation of victim status?" the prosecutor was asking.  One of the junior judges, a thin-faced witch with small, round eyes frowned.

"The court is concerned about the precedent that would be established in designating an Auror as a victim of a crime.  The statute clearly sets up a separate category for Aurors, which does not entitle them to the same status as civilian victims."

"Your honors, the people's motion is clearly limited to request designation only for the purpose of subsection (4)(d), which would prohibit the defendant from initiating direct communication with Auror Clare, and enable the Prison Authority to enforce this prohibition.  Auror Clare has made herself available to the defendant for interview pursuant to the exception noted in subsection (2)(c), and has accepted and fulfilled the duties of an Auror throughout this proceeding.  The people see no reason why the defendant should have the right to initiate direct contact with Auror Clare while he is in prison, particularly in light of the availability of contact through the prosecutors' office should such ever be appropriate."

"Mr. Mallory?"  The senior judge addressed the defendant's attorney.

"Other than the precedential issue already noted by the court," he murmured with an almost-bow in the direction of the junior judge who had spoken, "and matters contained in our brief, the defense has no other comment."  Before the senior judge could activate the Silencing Charm, the other junior judge spoke up.

"The statute clearly designates certain persons eligible for this protection, to include a decedent's family members," the dark-haired witch said thoughtfully.  "While there is some room for discretion in the language regarding 'Other persons whose relationship to the decedent merits such consideration', the court would not wish to appear to denigrate the special status given to those family members specified in the statute by extending it to professional colleagues.  Has the prosecutors' office consulted Auror Kearney's family regarding this motion?"

Adrienne rose to her feet again then.  "Your honors, Catherine was not merely a professional colleague - a designation that could apply to anyone else in the office - she was my husband's _partner_ for several years.  Bobby and I both considered her a member of our family while he was alive, and I still do today," she told them firmly.  "She has done everything a member of the family would do, from making the funeral arrangements, to providing comfort and support as we try to adjust to the loss - without regard for the fact that Catherine suffered a loss too.  I would like the court the recognize that."

When she sat down again, this time Adrienne reached for Catherine's hand.  It quivered for a moment in her own, and Adrienne saw her blinking back tears before her professional mask descended again.

The Silenced discussion actually seemed longer this time, but eventually the court granted the motion and called the next case.

"Cafeteria?" Adrienne suggested when they reached the hall. 

Catherine nodded.  "I didn't know Brenda had filed that.  Adrienne, did you?"

"Yes.  I asked her not to tell you," Adrienne admitted.  "She wasn't at all sure they would grant it, and you're already protected enough that you probably wouldn't get anything he sent anyway, but, well - Bobby would have wanted me to ask."

"Thank you, Adrienne," Catherine said quietly, blinking hard again.  "I appreciate the gesture."

"Did they really take longer to discuss the motion than the sentence?" she asked curiously after they entered the cafeteria.  She selected a slice of cheesecake and a cup of coffee.  Eating because of nerves would be bad for her figure, but today she would indulge herself anyway.

"Well, yes," Catherine admitted.  "Not because of their relative importance," she added quickly.  "I'm sure it was only because of the novelty of the motion."

"You don't have to protect my feelings, Catherine," Adrienne reassured her, smiling slightly.  "Brenda already told me that they would probably have just about made up their minds about the sentence before they came in.  I'm not upset about it."  Actually, it made her feel better about not being able to make the statement she planned.  "How do you like living in the U.K.?"

"Interesting."

"Meaning you can't tell me much about it," Adrienne translated easily.  "Any good shopping?"

_"Adrienne!_" 

"A witch can dream, can't she?  Three kids under ten don't leave a lot of time for worrying about the state of my robes."  Catherine laughed in response.

"I'll make a point of getting to Hogsmead so I can fill you in on all the latest styles," she promised, her blue-gray eyes dancing with amusement. 

As they stood in line to pay for their snacks, Catherine scanned the cafeteria with dissatisfaction.  It was still fairly full with people lingering over late lunches.

"Are any of the small conference rooms open?" Catherine asked the cashier.  "Prosecutor's office."

The witch glanced at a parchment on the counter.  "Three, eight, or nine."

"We'll take nine," Catherine decided, waiting politely for Adrienne to finish her transaction before leading her into a small private room on one side of the cafeteria.  As soon as she shut the door the cafeteria noise ceased, and Adrienne realized that these rooms must have permanent charms on them.  It was very small, holding only a square table and four chairs, but the quiet was really a blessing.

"This almost makes me glad you switched to prosecution," Adrienne said lightly as she seated herself.  "You'd think they'd give Aurors a room as well."

Catherine shook her head with a rueful smile.  "Every once in a while they talk about it, but they always conclude they'd rather not have all of us congregated in one place," she explained.  Adrienne slid her fork into the tip of the cheesecake to create the first bite; she knew from experience that it would be surprisingly good for a government institution.

"Adrienne," Catherine began, "I wanted you to know that I'm going to resign.  I have a meeting with Devon a little later this afternoon."  Adrienne set her fork down.

"Why?" she asked simply and directly.

"You've read about Voldemort.  I think I can do more where I am."

"You're already on leave," Adrienne pointed out.  "Nobody's stopping you from doing whatever it is you're doing."  She could see the tension in Catherine's face, but then Catherine pulled out her wand and cast another Silencing Charm of her own on top of the ones already in place in the room.

"Adrienne, the American press isn't taking this seriously enough," Catherine said quietly, her blue-gray eyes very sober.  "The British press isn't either for that matter.  At times, the tone seems to waver between hysteria because Voldemort hasn't been taken into custody yet and smug assurance that it will all be over any minute and there's really nothing to worry about!  Voldemort may not be omnipotent, but he's a very powerful dark wizard with a lot more followers than anyone wants to admit.  He's a good strategist, and he's had literally _years_ to plan his takeover.  I don't think this will be over any time soon." 

Adrienne grew cold, despite the warmth of summer outside and the magically regulated temperature within.  "You're not even halfway through your leave," she heard herself say.

"If I'm not going to be back on time, it's not fair for me to keep my job.  Devon can't get a new permanent replacement until I resign, and someone else who could do the job can't have either the satisfaction or the paycheck," Catherine pointed out gently.  "I don't think it's right for me to stop things from moving on without me."

"I understand," Adrienne said at last.  "I'm sorry.  I know you really liked it.  Brenda said you were very good."  Catherine smiled a little, although without the light in her eyes that signified real joy.

"I'm glad.  It was a good place for me to be."

"Why did you quit being an Auror when Bobby died?" Adrienne asked abruptly, seeing Catherine withdraw inwardly without surprise.  She had always wondered about that, but there had never been a good time to press the issue.

"It wouldn't have been the same without Robert," Catherine said calmly, but Adrienne could see that her eyes were shielded.  "It was time for me to try something different."

"That wasn't it, and we both know it," Adrienne said implacably.  "You could have worked with a new partner.  That would've been something different.  Everyone knew how good you were, and you got on well with the other Aurors.  Why did you quit instead?"

Catherine's jaw set.  "I told you why I left."

"No one blamed you for Bobby's death."

"I know that."  Catherine was getting impatient, but Adrienne persisted.

"Not me, not anyone.  There was nothing you could have done," she insisted.

"Adrienne, I _know_."

"Bobby wouldn't have blamed you either."

Catherine was now more openly irritated.  "Adrienne, drop it."

"Why did you quit?"

"I told you, I – "

"Don't lie to me, Catherine.  I've known you too long to believe that, and I've got more right to the truth than anyone else.  _I want to know why."_ Adrienne saw Catherine's eyes blaze in response, and thought she might finally get an answer.

"_I quit so I wouldn't kill Wilcox_!" Catherine ejaculated angrily, than clapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes.

"Catherine?" Adrienne whispered, not sure what to say.  She had known there was more to Catherine's decision to change jobs than she was saying, but she would never have guessed _that_. 

Catherine's anger had apparently drained away after her outburst.  When she opened her eyes again, she did not meet Adrienne's, and her voice when she spoke was weary.

"I knew I couldn't have saved Robert.  I won't deny that I felt I _should_ have been able to, but I always knew I couldn't have.  I ran over what happened in my mind more times than I want to remember, but I always came back to one thing – Wilcox _chose_ to kill him.  There were plenty of other things he could have done to try to escape arrest without taking a life, but he chose to kill, and he was still walking around and _breathing_ when Robert wasn't."

"Oh, _Catherine _–"

"It made me angry."

Adrienne reached over to clasp one of Catherine's hands in her own.  "I was angry too, Catherine, that's perfectly normal."  Catherine met her eyes again, her own grimmer than Adrienne had ever seen them.

"But you're not an Auror," she pointed out.  "Knowing how to enforce the law also means we know how to break it.  Being angry at Wilcox was one thing – even wishing him dead doesn't bother me – but I went beyond merely _wishing_ and started trying to figure out how to bring it about." Her lips twisted slightly.  "I did it, too – figured out a way to kill him and get away with it.  I don't say that like the typical criminal – they all think that they'll get away with it, and they're usually wrong.  I say I would have gotten away with it because _I knew how things were done_.  I had the power to kill Wilcox – I probably would have said punish him at the time – and get away with it."

"You didn't use it."

"No," Catherine admitted, "but no one who was thinking the way I was at the time has any business being an Auror.  We're supposed to _enforce_ the law, not find ways around it."

Adrienne felt her eyes filling with tears.  _Prosecution, of course_, she thought.  Law and order and dedication to the system.  Playing by the rules.

"Bobby would've been very proud of you," she said.  Catherine, startled, met her eyes and searched them as though not sure Adrienne was serious.  "I mean it," she insisted.  "Bobby would have been very proud of you."

Catherine swallowed hard.  "I don't see why.  I'm very ashamed about the whole thing."

"You shouldn't be.  The fact that you had more options doesn't change your choice."  Catherine picked up her coffee cup awkwardly, although her movements were normally deft.  "I wanted to kill him too," Adrienne said.  "Back then, I mean.  I just didn't have the same opportunity.  It was easier for me, I guess.  I knew I _wouldn't_ get away with it, and the kids needed me – but I think I would have if I could have, and then I would never have seen him the way I did today."

"Diminished."

"Exactly.  He seemed so powerful before.  He isn't."

"I know what you mean."  Some of Catherine's unnatural tension was easing away.  "As bizarre as it is, Voldemort has helped me get a better perspective on Wilcox."

Adrienne grinned.  "Nice to know there's _something_ good about the man."  Their eyes met, and both women laughed and felt much better for it.  "I wish you'd said something before."

"You had enough burdens of your own to deal with," Catherine said firmly.  "So how's the potions work going?"

"It would go better if I could get in a little more lab time," Adrienne admitted, accepting the change in subject.  "I love Grace dearly, but I have to admit I'll be glad when she starts school and I have a little more time to myself.  I keep thinking I'll get in a little work during the day while the boys are at school and she's napping, but it seems like it's one thing after another and before I know it, Tristan and Garrett are back home and I've lost another opportunity."  She was also rapidly running out of time to get enough done to submit an abstract for the potions conference that was coming up in December.  _Maybe next time – it will only be another four years._

Adrienne looked over at Catherine, and immediately recognized the look that meant that she was busily working out how to solve someone else's problem.  Bobby had called it her 'Miss Fix-it' look.

"Have you thought about approaching Maggie?" Catherine said, referring to her sister-in-law.

"Approaching her about what?"

"Swapping babysitting."

"What do you mean?" 

"If Maggie would watch Grace sometimes during the week when the boys are at school, you could get some solid work time in."

"Maggie already has Annabel and the baby to worry about," Adrienne pointed out.

"Grace and Annabel aren't too far apart in age, and one more won't matter much.  In return, you could take her two sometimes on the weekends.  Not _too_ often, or Michael will never see them, but I know they'd appreciate some time without the kids once in a while." 

Adrienne thought this over quickly.  As usual, Catherine made a lot of sense.  There weren't many people she would trust with her children, but Maggie and Michael Clare were among them.  Adrienne remembered how she and Bobby had treasured their rare time alone together, so perhaps Maggie would be willing to work something out. 

With Bobby's irregular working hours as an Auror, he and Adrienne had difficulty finding time for themselves, time for them to be a couple rather than just Tristan and Garrett's parents.  In retrospect, most of those rare occasions were made possible only because Catherine had agreed to watch the boys.  Without Bobby, she no longer needed that private time, but she pushed that painful thought away and tried to focus on the present. 

"That's a good idea, Catherine.  I'll Floo her and see what she says."


	4. Properly Selfish

It was literally _months_ before anything happened that Severus could use to justify a general program of combat training. Oddly enough, when it finally did – the Lestranges attacked Catherine Clare at Hogsmeade – he had to use the wolf to get her to agree to participate. Severus couldn't quite figure out _how_ Lupin managed to get her to do what he wanted, but it was a skill Severus was perfectly willing to take advantage of to keep a little more blood off his hands.

"It's about time!" Severus griped at the Headmaster when he saw him alone afterwards.

"I said I would let you start a general program of training when something happened to justify it, and I have," Dumbledore pointed out equably. "I really have no desire to see anything happen to Catherine – or to any of the other members of the Order. It was quite a good suggestion, as long as it could be implemented without compromising the timeline."

"I'm very pleased that Remus has offered to lead a group as well," the Headmaster continued. "Some of the others, like Molly, will benefit from his coaching." Dumbledore sighed, and Severus could hear the criticism in the silence.

_If the other members of the Order want to risk their necks spending time with the wolf, that's one thing,_ he thought rebelliously. _Putting him in the school – and in the DADA position when he's a dark creature himself – is quite another! _He wasn't sorry he'd let Lupin's real nature slip – well, maybe a little sorry that Dumbledore wasn't more supportive, but then he should never have put him in that position in the first place. And even if Pettigrew were the real traitor rather than Black, well, the wolf had been friends with _both_ of them.

"The knowledge he holds of the events of last fall is growing more dangerous every day," Severus pointed out coolly instead. "If you're really concerned about protecting the timeline, the sensible thing to do is to eliminate his memories of her visit entirely." The Headmaster frowned.

"I don't like to Obliviate people unnecessarily."

"For Merlin's sake, Lupin's feelings for her couldn't be more obvious if he were wearing a _sign_ around his neck!" Severus expostulated.

"Apparently not everyone is as perceptive as you are." Dumbledore had a faint twinkle in his eyes that was a welcome change from his obvious regret at losing Lupin as an instructor.

"I can't believe Molly is actually trying to set him up with _Tonks,_" Severus said, rolling his eyes. "Any fool could see he isn't even slightly interested in her, and Molly is totally oblivious to the fact that all Lupin _does _think about is riding off into the sunset with Catherine Clare. Probably headed for a rose-covered cottage with a white-washed fence around the garden where they can raise a pack of squalling brats together!" He glared at Dumbledore, "And _you _expect him to kindly keep his mouth shut and stand by and say _nothing_ while she heads off to get _killed_. Even I'm not happy about it, and I'm not in love with her!"

"I told you that I've taken care of things with Remus, and we don't _know_ that Catherine will be killed," Dumbledore repeated with an air of patient finality. "My American contacts have given her a very good report, and you've had an opportunity to observe her combat skills yourself."

"I already admitted that she wasn't bad," he replied grudgingly. Okay, he conceded silently, she was one of the best fighters in the Order, in a class with himself and Moody, much as it pained him to admit it – even to himself. "Although she doesn't take direction very well."

Her willingness to disregard his orders was _really_ irritating.

"Yes, I noticed that she has a certain amount of confidence in her own skill and judgment," the Headmaster said with deceptive blandness. "Most professionals _do_ in their areas of expertise."

"And speaking of areas of expertise," Dumbledore continued adroitly, "how is Molly coming along?"

"Not badly," Severus conceded. "Better than I expected actually. However much talent she may have had to begin with, I didn't expect much knowing she's spent years doing nothing other than a little housework. But she wasn't as rusty as I thought she would be, and at least she takes instruction. She's been doing fairly well with the healing potions, which I would be relieved not to have to brew myself all the time."

"I expect she may have had more practice over the years than you assumed, Severus." The Headmaster chuckled, and added, "Remember that all that time she's been living with Fred and George!"

----------------

Maggie had agreed to the baby-sitting proposal so eagerly that Adrienne's concern that she might be taking advantage of her disappeared immediately. _I guess it's been so long since I had a husband to spend time with that I forgot how important it was._ Wilcox's sentencing earlier in the summer had brought some finality to the part of her life that had Bobby as its primary focus. When she returned to her potions research, it was with a renewed sense of purpose.

Adrienne was surprised to discover – or perhaps remember – how much she enjoyed her work. Her particular specialty, inhalation potions, was so esoteric that she really had an opportunity to do something noteworthy.

Admittedly, there was a bit of ego involved there.

It was very satisfying to be the person who made a discovery, or created a new potion or process, to be able to point to something and say _I did that_. Perhaps that was part of the reason it had been so hard to make the kind of progress she wanted to since she lost Bobby – the children had needed her much more than usual, and she simply couldn't set their needs aside to shut herself up in a laboratory.

Now enough time had passed to allow all of them to adjust to a new "normal" – a life without him – if not entirely, at least enough so that Adrienne didn't need to feel guilty about spending some part of the school day in her laboratory. Grace was perfectly happy at the Clares, and got along well with Annabel. Maggie had confided once that it was almost easier to have Grace there than not, as the girls played with each other and made it easier for Maggie to tend to the baby. The boys were not affected by the different arrangements during the school week; the only change was that occasionally Annabel and the baby joined them for a while over the weekend, which didn't seem to bother them.

And Adrienne was starting to feel like a _person_ again, rather than just a "widow with three children."

When she went to pick up Grace that afternoon, she did so with the satisfaction of knowing that now there was at least a decent chance she would be able to submit an abstract in time for the potions conference in December after all.

"Mommy!" Grace greeted her enthusiastically as she stepped out of the fireplace into Maggie's spacious kitchen. "I _waited_ and _waited_ for you to come!"

Obedient to the upstretched arms, Adrienne reached down and hoisted her daughter up. _She's really getting heavy. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to carry her around_, she acknowledged with a pang.

"Well, now I'm here, and I'm _very_ happy to see you. Did you have a good day?" Behind her, Adrienne could see Maggie look at her in a combination of apology and warning. It was instantly recognizable to another mother as _Sorry, I didn't mean to do this to you, but tread carefully._

"He's _wonderful_, Mommy," Grace informed her, squirming with pleasure and eagerness to get down again. "You _haf _to come and meet him."

"And whom do I 'haf' to come and meet," Adrienne teased, setting her down and accepting the hand that reached up to tug her in the right direction.

"He doesn't have a name yet," Grace told her importantly. "Annabel says she's waiting for him to tell her what it is."

Adrienne turned back to question Maggie with a glance as Grace paused to open the door to the back yard, and Maggie mouthed _Puppy_ to her silently out of Grace's sight. _Oh, well, it could be worse,_ Adrienne decided philosophically.

Adrienne admired the puppy – an all-white offspring of Lempkin – and agreed that he was indeed wonderful while diplomatically avoiding a final decision on Grace's request to get one just like him. Fortunately, she didn't seem to need to push the issue very hard.

"And it wouldn't be much fun for him to be home alone while you're over here playing with _this_ puppy," Adrienne concluded.

Grace considered this.

"He could play with you while I'm gone," she suggested.

"If he played in the laboratory, he might get hurt, and you wouldn't want that." Grace frowned at this, but the puppy nipped playfully at her fingers, which distracted her and caused her to giggle. "You can play with the puppy a little longer while I run inside and have a word with Mrs. Clare," Adrienne told her daughter, "then we have to leave and pick up the boys."

Adrienne returned to Maggie's capacious kitchen, closed the door to the back yard behind her, and grinned at her. "So, you've suddenly acquired a puppy?" she observed.

Maggie cast another very expressive look at her before cracking open the oven to quickly assess the progress of whatever she was making for supper. "Not my idea, but Michael thought the puppy was a better risk than the alternative." Adrienne quirked a brow at her in inquiry. "Annabel decided to pop into the fireplace and just head over to Catherine's to ask for one."

Adrienne felt that sympathetic maternal panic that one mother always felt hearing news like that. Tristan knew how to use the Floo – actually, he had since he was younger than Grace was now – but that was only because Bobby had insisted on it as a security measure for specific emergencies. Adrienne hadn't taught the younger children after his death. With Bobby's job no longer a factor, she thought that the risks to them were greater if they thought it was something they could do.

"Where did she end up?" she asked weakly. "I take it she was all right?"

"Stone House," Maggie said gruffly, not quite concealing her pride as she named a location on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

"_Good god_!"

Maggie nodded. "So, Annabel got a fairly mild lecture on not leaving the house without permission, and the puppy she asked for. Michael thought it was better not to make too big a deal about it," she explained, "but we did add some child-proofing to the fireplace. It won't allow anyone out unless at least one of the travelers holds an Apparition License or we've de-activated the ward."

"That seems like a good idea." She was more relieved than ever that Garrett and Grace didn't think they knew how to Floo.

----------------

Severus stepped out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place looking forward to spending some time relaxing with Emmeline after a rather difficult meeting with The Dark Lord.

Death Eaters had attacked Stone House, Catherine Clare's home which was also the present location of Harry Potter. Severus had been part of the team fighting _against_ the Death Eaters, which was really _not_ the sort of thing they appreciated. Although The Dark Lord supported his work with the Order – Severus had managed to convince him that Severus' true allegiance was exactly where it was not – he could hardly be pleased with events that had resulted in the arrest of three of his followers.

Still, with any luck, Severus may have managed to turn this to his advantage. He hadn't known about the prospective attack – which rather worried him – but he had pointed out that _because_ he hadn't known about it, he had not been sure that it was a move sanctioned by The Dark Lord himself, or that it was worth risking his "cover" over. Whereas, if he _had _known about it, he would not only have absented himself to lower the defensive strength but might also have been able to assist in some way – very discreetly, of course. It was a fairly subtle way to encourage The Dark Lord to ensure that Severus was kept better informed, although Rookwood, who was most responsible for the debacle among those who had at least returned, was not going to be feeling very friendly toward Severus at the moment.

Also, the _reasons_ for the attack still bothered him. Although taking over a defensible base closer to Hogwarts and Harry Potter had been mentioned, there had been that troubling bit about Catherine Clare that he wasn't meant to overhear, on top of the looks exchanged between Rodolphus Lestrange and Rookwood.

_I really need to talk to Avery again –_

"Severus," Emmeline greeted him, tripping lightly down the stairs to meet him in the hall. As usual, she managed to look lovely, despite her long confinement in this rather depressing house. "How are you?" Her eyes swept him quickly to see if he'd brought her anything – which he hadn't – and he felt rather guilty for the omission even though she didn't say anything.

_I could at least have brought her another one of those stupid novels._

Unwilling to be caught purchasing them again, Severus had ordered the rest of the lot shipped to the school all at once. He had toyed with the idea of buying them from somewhere else where he was less well known than Magnus' shop in Hogsmeade, but he rather owed the man for helping him avoid Sybill and at least he could rely on him to be discreet. He usually just took another one from the box safely hidden in his quarters when he was coming to visit Emmeline, but he hadn't stopped by the school en route.

"I'm sorry I didn't think to bring you anything new to read," he apologized. "I'm afraid I didn't get the chance to pick something up."

"That's all right. I can just keep re-reading what I have," she told him in a way that made him feel guiltier than ever. She was stuck all alone in this huge house with nothing to do, and he couldn't be bothered to take a few extra minutes to stop by his chambers on her behalf! He'd been too preoccupied with his own desire to spend time with her to even consider _her_ feelings.

"I really am sorry," he repeated. "I'll bring you two next time, I promise." Emmeline rewarded him with a dazzling smile. _She really has the most amazing eyes!_

"Would you like to play a game with me instead?" she suggested brightly.

"Of course," he agreed immediately. "Whatever you like."

"How about a few hands of Exploding Snap?" she suggested, and he nodded amiably, skillfully keeping his real feelings from becoming apparent.

The truth was that he found that game – which for some inexplicable reason seemed to be the only one Emmeline really enjoyed – indescribably boring. If they _had_ to play a game, he would much have preferred something a little more challenging, like chess or Tournament, although he really wasn't much in the mood for either at the moment. What he actually wanted was to relax a bit, maybe with some interesting conversation and perhaps a good cognac.

But Emmeline didn't like cognac – she seemed to prefer the sweeter white wines – and she enjoyed herself so much playing Exploding Snap that it would have been rude to try to force her to attend to a conversation of any substance.

So when she tucked her hand under his arm and smiled up at him again, he reminded himself that he was really very lucky. He didn't have that much experience with serious relationships, which surely required a little compromise. Mature adults certainly didn't expect to get their own way all the time, and he didn't want to be selfish. Obviously, the important thing was that Emmeline would be happy.

After all, Severus knew he was madly in love with her.

And she _was_ very beautiful.

--------------

Adrienne was actually in the laboratory when she received the owl addressed to her and the kids, each of their names listed in order below hers in graceful script. At the time, she felt only mild curiosity about the contents. She opened the parchment and read, "_The honour of your presence is requested at the marriage of Miss Catherine Miranda Clare to Mr. Remus John Lupin on Saturday, the –_" before her brain absorbed what she had read and shuddered to a halt.

Catherine was getting _married? _On _Saturday_? And who was Remus Lupin?

After a frozen moment, she strode over to the fireplace and summoned Maggie with a handful of Floo powder. Catherine's dark-haired sister-in-law appeared in the flames a few moments later.

"Adrienne, I thought I'd be hearing from you," she greeted her. "You got it?"

"An invitation to Catherine's wedding?" Maggie nodded. "Is it really _this_ Saturday? And who on earth is –" she blanked on the name for a moment and had to check the parchment again – "Remus John Lupin?"

"It really _is_ this Saturday," Maggie confirmed, "and don't overlook the part at the bottom about portkeys because you won't be able to Floo in. As for her fiancé, I haven't even met him yet." Adrienne's eyes widened.

"Is everything all right?"

"Well, Michael thinks so, and he's met him."

"Why the rush to the altar then?" Now that she thought about it, she remembered that Catherine was a fairly wealthy woman. As Catherine had lived on her salary, she tended to forget that there was family money somewhere in the background. Adrienne had always considered the younger woman an excellent judge of character, but even the shrewdest people could lose their heads at times.

Maggie made an expressive face. "You know how Catherine is about stuff like that. If she's made up her mind to marry him, she'll do it quickly, and with a minimum of fuss, and never mind how it looks to anyone else. I suppose I should be thankful that she's willing to have _anyone_ at the ceremony other than the witnesses, but _honestly!_"

"You're right about that," Adrienne agreed, getting over some of the shock and turning the idea over in her mind. "Has she known him long?" Maggie shrugged, looking rather exasperated.

"Michael didn't say. I don't think he even _asked_," she complained. "You'd think he'd ask a few more questions considering that the man's marrying his only sister in a few days, but he doesn't seem to know _anything_. All he says is that he likes him and thinks it's a good match. Michael was over there a lot when Catherine was missing and said the poor man was a wreck."

"Catherine was _missing_?"

"Yes, but there's no point in asking where she was or why she was missing because no one will say," Maggie sighed. "Anyway, they must have gotten engaged right away, because Michael tells me that she's back safely, and then suddenly we're getting a wedding invitation. For this week! Michael seems to think that's perfectly normal, as if it were normal for anyone other than a Clare."

"They do go their own way, don't they?" Adrienne agreed, her mind busy processing what Maggie had told her. "Well, I suppose we'll see what he's like on Saturday. Any ideas for a wedding present?" Maggie groaned again in response. "Well, thanks anyway," she finished, and Maggie rolled her eyes before disappearing in the flames.

------------

Adrienne finished dressing on Saturday morning and surveyed her image. Not bad for someone less than a year away from forty, she decided. She didn't get out to the shops much, that was true, but she had never forgotten the lessons of her practical French mother who taught her the difference between mere fashion and true style. Accordingly, she had invested in quality pieces that looked good on her. The one she had on was of fine wool in a rich claret color that showed just the right amount of décolletage. She started to slick on the matching lipstick when she was summoned.

"_Mo - om_!"

"Yes, Garrett?"

"What do I wear if I can't wear my blue shirt?"

"Why can't you wear your blue shirt?"

Silence.

"Garrett?"

"Yes?"

"Why can't you wear your blue shirt?"

"We - ell, something might have got spilled on it."

"What?"

"Dunno."

_Oh, lord, not now_. Adrienne marched into the boys' room and found what she expected. Tristan was already neatly dressed, with his bed made and his half of the room straight. Garrett, who was wearing only yesterday's underwear, was surrounded by most of the contents of both the bureau and his toy chest while trying to look innocent in a way that would only have fooled someone younger than he was.

"Garrett," Adrienne warned.

"I really don't know," he said quickly. "It was some green stuff in a cauldron and it sort of got knocked over - "

"How?"

More silence.

"_Garrett_!"

"My toy broom kinda got away from me a little," he admitted very slowly.

"What is the rule about riding your broomstick?"

"Only outside in the back yard and only when you say it's okay," Garrett recited automatically.

"And what is the rule about Mommy's laboratory?"

"Never go in there when you're not there and don't touch anything. But, Mom, I had to get my broom," he protested.

"So your excuse for breaking one rule was that you broke another? That's not going to cut it. What happened to your blue shirt?"

"It sort of went 'pouf' and there was a purple cloud that was really cool and - "

"I get the picture." Adrienne started expertly sorting through the debris on Garrett's half of the room.

"Am I in trouble?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"We'll talk about that later." She handed him a stack containing clean underwear and another outfit. "Right now you need to get washed up and dressed or we'll miss Aunt Catherine's wedding. Scoot!" Satisfied with the momentary reprieve, Garrett scurried away to the bathroom and Adrienne stared at the disaster left in his wake. _To clean or not to clean?__ That is the question_, she mused humorously.

"I can help straighten up," Tristan offered.

"No, Tristan, this is Garrett's job. Since you're already dressed, you can just relax and enjoy yourself for a bit if you like. I'll call you in plenty of time." The somber dark eyes of her oldest son regarded her with politely concealed skepticism for a moment before he calmly picked up his book again.

She never said so, but the truth was that she worried more about Tristan than Garrett. Tristan was probably every parent's dream - neat, obedient, and quiet - but Adrienne thought he was a little _too_ quiet. He hadn't been so withdrawn when Bobby was alive, but then he was really the only one of the children who had been old enough to really remember their father. Garrett remembered him a little, but those memories seemed to be fading, Adrienne acknowledged with an inward pang.

"_Mommee_!" It was Grace this time. Adrienne made a mental note to remember her lipstick if she got another free moment before their portkey.

"Coming!"


	5. Attendant Gifts

Severus surveyed the reception with some inward satisfaction.  The flowers were exquisite, the food delectable, and the music divine.  While he wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up planning the wedding of one of the people he liked least in the world, he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had carried it off with aplomb. 

His pride demanded it. 

Now that he thought about it, that might be how he ended up in this position. 

He had been utterly shocked when Catherine had asked him to attend her for her wedding, especially considering the identity of the groom.  Even if she did seem to mean it as some sort of acknowledgement that he might have contributed to saving her life with all those combat drills, there had been a little bit of _I dare you_ in her eyes. 

And he wondered if she was only asking him because they were sure he wouldn't accept – or if it was because they knew _he _was the one who would be blamed for anything that didn't come off beautifully if he _did_ accept.  Everyone would know Potter was too young to be expected to know how to arrange anything like a wedding.

Then everyone had just _stared_ at him – which got his back up when he realized it – and the Potter brat, who was attending the wolf, had made some sort of crack about Severus keeping the boy from messing things up. 

Catherine and Lupin had decided to be married in less than a _week_, which was simply impossible – even with Dumbledore's help – for anything more elaborate than a simple ceremony of the type that could have been held at the Registry Office. 

The whole idea was preposterous. 

And people were so ridiculously sentimental about weddings to begin with – Hestia had already started crying before Severus had even agreed to serve as Catherine's attendant – and everyone who cared about them would want everything to be _perfect_. 

They wouldn't care that there hadn't been any time, or that he'd been asked to do something that simply couldn't be done, or that he was supposed to work with the Potter brat, whom he couldn't stand, to do it.  The guests would show up and unconsciously expect this wedding to be very similar to others they had attended which were the product of months – or even years – of planning rather than just days.

And then somehow it became a point of honor for him.

Severus would show them that he could produce an extraordinary wedding under impossible conditions when no one expected him to pull it off. 

But he had.

He surveyed the arrangements again and smiled. 

_Maybe this will turn out to have been good practice –_

"I don't believe we've met," a woman said next to him.  "I'm Adrienne Kearney, a friend of Catherine's."  He turned to look at the speaker, and quickly imprinted her appearance into his memory.  Dark hair and eyes, just under average height, something of an 'earth mother' appearance.  Rather attractive, he decided dispassionately.

"Severus Snape," he stated.  "How do you do?"  He supposed he had to be civil under the circumstances.  She probably assumed he was a friend of Catherine's, and it would be rude to disillusion her.  He didn't actually dislike Catherine - her company was less intolerable than that of many other people, despite her habit of challenging him - but he would hardly have described her as a _friend_. 

On the other hand, he had just stood up for her at her wedding, which he had gone to considerable trouble and expense to arrange - he shoved the disquieting thought aside.

"I understand that you're responsible for this," she told him casually, apparently referring to the reception.  His discerning ear picked up a trace of an accent - _not_ American as he had first supposed - and he listened attentively in the hope of identifying it.  "It's quite lovely.  How did you convince the florist to come up with the _Madame Zoetmans_?  I thought the demand for Shape Restoration Potions would have used up most of the supply."

Severus' interest in her heightened as he realized that she was aware of the French Ministry's experiments in using the flower to combat the recent outbreak there of Kevusik's disease.  The current strain had proved resistant to the standard potion, but a substitution of the leaves of the _Madame Zoetmans _rose for the more commonly used _Leda_ had proved efficacious.  "I had access to some additional sources," he replied non-commitally.  "How did you become aware of the outbreak?"

She shrugged lightly.  "An old acquaintance Floo'd me about it a while back, when they discovered the original potion was ineffective on this strain of Kevusik's.  They were trying to find someone who had some experience with floral ingredients in potions and my father had worked with perfumes_._"

"Mommy?"  The speaker who interrupted was a little girl of probably three or four.

"Yes?"

"What's the pink stuff over there?" she asked cheerfully.

"Salmon," Adrienne told her.

"What's salmon?"

"Fish."

"Can I have some?"

"Taste a little first to see if you like it.  Have one of the boys help you."

"Okay."  She toddled off.

Severus watched her go and realized he was probably supposed to say something inane.  "Your daughter?"

"Yes," Adrienne took another sip of champagne, her eyes tracking the little girl over to an older boy.  "Grace will be four in November.  Tristan just turned ten, and Garrett is eight," she added.

Her earlier reference to perfumes had triggered something in his mind, and he had begun searching his memory as she spoke to her daughter.  Now the reference he was looking for snapped into place.

"If I recall correctly, there was an article in _Le Journal d'Alchimie_ several years ago comparing the process of perfume-making to potion-brewing by an Adrienne S. Richaud," he said slowly.  Adrienne nodded.

"I still use my maiden name professionally."

Severus felt a twinge of satisfaction, born simultaneously of both his pleasure in finding a professional colleague so unexpectedly and of his mental facility in making the connection which had allowed him to do so.  "I was most intrigued by the implications of the material regarding fixatives," he began. 

Soon the two of them were deep in discussions that ranged from potion-brewing to the validity of Adalbert Waffling's theories on the relevance of bloodlines in contributing to magical talent to Carlotta Pinkstone's latest article in _The International Wizarding Gazette. _ Finding themselves in agreement on the topic of Gaspard Shingleton's new line of cauldrons ("If Shingleton thinks that mere _weight_ is a substitute for craftsmanship, his head must be as thick as the bottom of his new Number 10," Severus had declared scornfully, prompting a rich rumble of laughter from Adrienne) they were arguing amiably about whether the reputation of Laverne de Montmorency overrated any actual achievements when a house-elf approached, causing Snape to stop speaking abruptly.

"Yes?" he drawled.

"If you please, sir, Miss Catherine and Master Remus requested that you join them upstairs," one of the house-elves informed him, looking even more annoyingly pleased with itself than usual.

"I shall join them directly," Severus replied, and the house-elf bowed politely and disappeared.

"Catherine's sneaking out?" Adrienne guessed, humor warming her sherry eyes.  Severus frowned.

"It is still quite early," he objected.  Adrienne continued to look amused.

"Catherine has gotten better over the years, but I doubt she'll ever be very fond of these things, however beautifully arranged," she said knowledgeably.  "Bobby had to practically dragoon her into attending the presentation ceremony when they were awarded Jameson Medals.  She carried it off beautifully, but she made him fill out their log reports for a week as penance for making her show up."  Severus was adding this piece of information to his mental file on Catherine when Adrienne added, "You'd better get going or you might miss her."

"I have enjoyed our conversation," he told her with a rare degree of honesty.  She smiled briefly in response as he excused himself and made his way upstairs.

While Adrienne was correct in guessing that the couple were changed and obviously ready to leave, they also had gifts waiting for their attendants.  Severus received the first gift – an engraved letter-opener bearing the emblems of his House – without surprise, although he did wonder what the wolf had whispered to the Potter boy that the latter found so amusing.

He opened the second box with no great expectation, and found that nestled within, in a protective wrapping of blue silk, was a book.  The moment he caught sight of it, he knew it was special.  The leather binding was in a style unused for centuries, although it still appeared to be in excellent condition.  There were no actual words on the cover or the spine, but the center of the cover held a picture of a cat burned into the ancient leather.  It was sitting and facing the reader, a small cauldron and a wand barely discernible in the background.  Severus was studying the design around the edge of the cover – were there runes hidden in the pattern framing the central figure? – when the cat looked directly at him and gave a deliberately large yawn.  Ignoring this and temporarily abandoning his consideration of the runes, Severus opened the book and began leafing through it, mentally translating titles as he did so. 

His heart stopped before jolting back into frantic life when he realized what he was holding.

"_Panacea Hildegardis_ – I had all but concluded that one was only a legend – _Lapis clarus_ – Translucent Stone is a potion?"  he demanded.

"Actually a potion combined with a charm, which is why no one has ever been able to duplicate it without the instructions.  Now you have them.  If you want to get some work in while you're here, you can find the stone cauldrons and some of the more obscure ingredients in the expanded potions lab."  He looked at Catherine as she spoke and knew she was smugly amused.  Severus struggled with a bizarre combination of rage, avarice, and gratitude tinged with amusement as Catherine blithely informed him of how to access the expanded potions laboratory in Stone House.

All this time, he had been working in the regular potions laboratory, thinking that Catherine had turned it over to him to use for the Order, and she had known that he didn't really have access to the whole of the laboratory after all. 

And all the while, Catherine had _this_ – a book of potions some wizards would kill for. 

There had actually been a wizard war fought in the middle ages over Hildegard's Panacea, but the secret of the potion itself had been reportedly lost during the final battle – destroyed before it could be delivered into enemy hands.  Translucent Stone was the foundation of the Valens family fortune, and many wizards had tried over the centuries to discover the secret Catherine's forebears had never revealed.  Either of those two potions were priceless, and he had barely skimmed a few pages of the ancient book she had handed him.  Severus realized his hands were shaking, and forced himself to appear calm as he nodded jerkily and started instinctively toward the laboratory.  If these recipes were still effective –

He paused with his hand on the door.

Catherine had just given him one of the greatest treasures in potion-making – but only temporarily.  In doing so, she had also let him know that she had kept it from him until she chose to reveal it, but he could hardly berate her for holding it back at the very moment she gave it to him!  Gritting his teeth, he silently conceded this round to her, and managed to choke out a "_Thank you"_ before stepping smartly out of the room.

He was only vaguely aware of the reception continuing as he passed swiftly through the central hall en route to the billiards room, where he used his new password – '_Victrix__ feles'_ – at the lesser-used entrance into the potions laboratory.  As soon as he did, it expanded to roughly triple its normally generous size as an entire section of the laboratory he had not guessed even existed was revealed.  There were new workstations, additional stores, and a number of the special stone cauldrons Catherine had mentioned.  Setting aside his annoyance at being bested, he got down to work.

He was giving the potion in the large stone cauldron a stir when he realized he was not alone.  There was a rather somber looking boy watching him with interest, his hands politely clasped behind his back.  While it was reassuring to observe that he showed no signs of getting into anything – children in a potions laboratory were frequently disastrous – it was also disconcerting not to know how long he had been standing there, unknown to Severus.  The Potions Master calmly stripped off his gloves and turned over the hourglass that would time the next stage before speaking.

"What are you doing?" he inquired.

"Just watching," the boy told him calmly before adding, in an apparent afterthought, "I know that I'm not supposed to touch anything."

"Oh?"  Snape now had a fair idea who this was but didn't say so.

"May I ask what you're brewing?"

"No."

The boy nodded, accepting this with equanimity.  He kept his hands clasped politely behind his back and did not press Snape any further.  The Potions Master flicked a quick glance at the hourglass, looked back at the boy, and made a decision.

"I wonder if you might be able to assist me in chopping some daisy root?" he asked casually.  They weren't expensive, and it wouldn't matter much if the boy mangled them – other than being nauseating to watch.  Still, one boy couldn't be as bad as an entire class of first years.

The boy simply nodded and followed Severus back to the regular stores cabinet in the other part of the lab.  Severus handed him some protective gloves, which he donned and fastened properly without prompting, before providing him with a supply of daisy root and settling him at the lab station Molly Weasley normally used.  Severus took a seat across from him with his own supply and began the mechanical task of chopping them into the right size.

"Is that the size you want them?"

"Yes."

The boy only nodded again, but he set to work on his own pile of daisy root and began to carefully cut them into pieces the proper size.  The boy didn't work quickly, but he was neat and careful.  The two of them chopped away companionably for a while without speaking.

"You are acquainted with Miss Clare?" Snape asked idly after a time.

"She was my father's partner," came the quiet response.  "I call her Aunt Catherine even though she isn't really an aunt."

"Ah." There was another silence, then the boy gave the Potions Master an unusually assessing look.

"Do you know much about the man she married?"

"Some."

"Do you think –" the boy hesitated.  "Do you think he'll be _nice_ to her?"  There was a slightly anxious tone in his voice.

_Will Lupin be _nice _to her?_  The wolf was nice to everybody, almost sickeningly so.  _He's even nice to me, and he knows I can't stand him._

"I expect so," was all he said aloud.

"Good."  The boy relaxed infinitesimally, then seemed to feel an explanation was called for.  "I only asked because she hasn't been really happy in a long time.  She is now, and I wondered if it would last."

Severus merely nodded.  He was not inclined to point out that one couldn't count on happiness lasting to the somber child carefully chopping his daisy root.  The child probably knew that only too well anyway. 

On the other hand, he was _damned_ if he would say anything else in the way of reassurance.  It would have had to be something nice about the wolf, and he didn't think he could stomach that.

----------

Potter's seventh year began a short time after the wedding, and Severus welcomed the beginning of the end.  Admittedly, the usual assortment of annoying little brats had arrived, which was never pleasant, but a few of the new Slytherins showed some promise, and it was the last year he would have to put up with Potter. 

The brat looked more like his father every day.

But this year, when he saw him across the Great Hall during the Sorting, he knew that it was the _last _Sorting Potter would attend.  And that would be the case all year – only one more year's worth of dinners with Potter all too visible at the Gryffindor table.  There was still much left to be endured – Quidditch matches, and Halloween feasts and so on – but every event would be sweetened by the knowledge that it was the last of its kind.  His eyes rested on the messy black hair as he contemplated the future without Potter.  Well, he supposed Albus would invite him to join the Order, but Severus still wouldn't have to see much of him.

As if aware of the eyes on him, Potter turned his head and met Severus' gaze across the room.  Then something amazing happened.

Potter _nodded_ at him.

It wasn't the nod Potter used when he was wishing he could say something nasty to his professor, but was forced by prudence and their respective positions to bite his tongue.  It wasn't the reluctant nod of agreement that said '_Okay, I'll go along because you just happen to be right about this at the moment, but don't think it means anything_.'  It was more like the short jerk of the head Minerva used to greet him silently in the staff room.  Certainly not affectionate, but still a fairly respectful acknowledgement. 

And it was so like the way Minerva nodded at him that Severus responded to Potter the way he automatically did to her.  It was not quite apparent as a nod, for the downward movement of his head was infinitesimal.  What made it a nod was the brief way his lids moved as he partially dropped his gaze for a moment.

It was all over in an instant, and then Harry was watching the Sorting without the slightest sign that anything at all had happened.  And Severus watched it as well, with his accustomed expression of disdain on his face.  But behind his expression, he was wondering what the hell had just happened.


	6. Escape

A/N – After a triple update on another story I'm working on – I'd been planning to alternate between them – I decided it was only fair to post at least two more chapters.  I hope you enjoy them – feedback is always appreciated.

-----------------

Adrienne was watching the children play in the yard with half an eye while she changed the baby's diaper.  Maggie had asked her to take Annabel and the baby for a few hours Saturday afternoon – she had ended up taking the puppy as well, to Grace's delight.  Garrett had been pleased enough about the puppy for a while but he really preferred playing with his toy broomstick.  Adrienne had given him permission now that she was there to supervise.  She'd given Tristan permission as well, but he had made only a perfunctory circuit around the back yard before returning to his book.  Adrienne had the feeling he had only done it to be polite.

_Maybe he's getting too old for toy broomsticks.  He's only a year away from going away to school, he probably ought to have a real one._

_Might be a good Christmas present this year._

Tristan set his book down and stared into the distance for a while.  Then he came into the house, looking over at his mother a little cautiously.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Tristan?"

"Do you think –" he hesitated.

_If he asks for a real broom now, I'll just get him one,_ Adrienne decided instantly.  Tristan hardly ever asked for anything.

"Do you think you might get married again?"

Adrienne blinked.

_Oka__y, totally missed that one._

"I'm not planning to at the moment," she said calmly.  "You have to have a very special relationship with someone in order to get married, and there's no one I care for in that way right now.  But we are still a family, and I would never bring anyone else into the family if I didn't think it would be a good decision for all of us."  Tristan regarded her gravely as he considered this.

"If you married someone who was going to be nice to you and you were happy, I think it would be a good decision," he told her.  "Even if I didn't like him very much." 

"Tristan, I don't think other people can _make_ you happy," Adrienne replied slowly.  She hadn't expected Tristan to _want_ her to get married again.  If she had to guess, she would have thought that her oldest son would resent seeing another man in Bobby's place. 

_But I don't want him thinking that my getting married is going to 'fix' everything and make it just like it was before Bobby died.  It wouldn't._ 

"I think it's something you need to do yourself," she continued.  "But it's okay if people aren't happy all the time – being sad is normal sometimes too."

"But happy is better," he pointed out slyly, with a hint of the smile she had missed, and Adrienne laughed out loud and gathered him into her arms for a big hug.

"Happy is better," she agreed.

--------------

Severus was startled when his talisman signaled that the Headmaster wanted to see him immediately – he hadn't even made it all the back to his quarters after the Sorting feast the first night.  He hurried to the Headmaster's Office, sweeping through the halls in a manner that sent clusters of students scurrying out of his path.  He couldn't see _why_ they all wanted to stand around and talk in the halls in the first place.  If you wanted a decent conversation, it made more sense to find a quiet place in which to sit comfortably and converse – not that any of these brats were capable of much in the way of an intelligent conversation.

Kingsley and Minerva were already in the Headmaster's office when Severus arrived.  He knew them well enough to be able to tell that they were very worried, even if Dumbledore had not been looking rather grave himself.

"Lucius Malfoy escaped from custody last night," the Headmaster informed him.

"Oh?" he replied coolly, shooting a sharp glance at Kingsley.

"He made a scene last night at supper," the Auror reported.  "Told his guards he didn't know why they kept summoning him to meals when the swill they were serving wasn't fit for human consumption and so on.  Went on about it at length, so when he didn't come down for breakfast or lunch, well –"

"What an extraordinary demonstration of Ministry skill!" Severus said in an acid tone. 

"Severus," Dumbledore said wearily.  Snape glared at him, but desisted.

"Not trying to excuse the guards, but he really shouldn't have been able to escape anyway – not without outside assistance, at least, which would be a little difficult for anyone to provide without knowing where the prisoner was being held," Kingsley added in his low, rich voice.

"Who _did _know where he was being held?" Minerva asked.

"The Minister, of course, and Amelia and her deputy – the one who was handling the Portkeys – but no one else is supposed to know."

"What about the guards themselves?" she pressed.  Kingsley frowned very slightly.

"None of them were told – _everything_ was handled by Portkey, including supplies.  And the Portkey doesn't get you in to the building itself, only to the courtyard outside."

"Once you've been present at a location, there are ways to ensure you can find it again," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Yes, but anything that would work through those wards would require a fair amount of time, and preparation – using supplies that are not permitted at the site."

"What about the guards?" Minerva asked, "or Amelia's deputy?"

"The guards were never allowed to return twice to duty at the same location, and the assignments were randomized.  Even with fairly longish tours, they still had to keep finding new sites to make sure of that, but they have been.  Also, no one could be assigned to work with the same partner twice."

"If there were two Death Eaters in the ranks, they would almost _have_ to wind up partnered sooner or later under such a system," she pointed out.  Kingsley's eyes widened.

"I hadn't thought of it that way," he admitted.  "They wouldn't have to trust each other or risk exposure then if they used their position to free one of the prisoners – all they would have to do is follow You-Know-Who's orders.  The fact that they _weren't_ regular partners would give them more credibility in whatever cover story they used."

"I highly doubt that The Dark Lord issued orders to free Lucius Malfoy, and I would be amazed if any of his followers decided to take the initiative – particularly when he was so exquisitely clear about _not_ doing so," Severus contributed.

"Could there have been a magical failure in the wards?" Minerva asked, with the air of someone prepared to consider even the remotest possibilities.

"There are Aurors going over the site inch by inch," Kingsley told them.  "If there's anything to find, they'll find it."

"I think the _human_ aspect is the most likely avenue to pursue," Dumbledore said. 

"I'll see what I can discover," Kingsley agreed, rising to leave through the fireplace so he could return to the investigation.

After he left, the remaining three sat in silence for some time, considering this development.  Dumbledore looked troubled.

"I believe it is _very_ important that we do not let Emmeline know that Lucius has escaped," he said at last.

Severus and Minerva both nodded, and the Headmaster continued.  "Severus, I'd like you to concentrate on finding out what you can through your usual channels.  Minerva can take care of stopping by to check on Emmeline for a while so you can give this your full attention."

Severus bit back an instinctive protest and merely nodded again. 

----------

Although all of them had been keeping Dumbledore apprised of the progress of their individual activities, it was a week later before all four of them reassembled in his office again.

"Kingsley, you had best start us out," the Headmaster suggested.

"I'm afraid I've discovered one likely lead," Kingsley reported, looking unusually disgruntled.  "The prisoner was allowed a visit with his wife the day before he disappeared."

"Ye cannae be serious!" Minerva protested, obviously shocked.  Kingsley nodded, his lips compressed.

"It seems she has been pressing Fudge for such a visit for quite some time – although he never mentioned it to Amelia, who would have had a fit if she'd known.  Fudge managed to get her to actually take her vacation this year, and then waited until she was unreachable and ordered her deputy to arrange the visit."  Kingsley's disgust was apparent in his expression.  "There was nothing her deputy could _do_ with the Minister himself issuing the order, but he did manage to ensure that she was subjected to the same security precautions as everyone else.  She was thoroughly searched before she was allowed to take the Portkey, and she was never allowed into the building.  They brought the prisoner out to the courtyard instead.  No physical contact – they had to stay more than an arms length apart – but they _were _allowed to speak privately.  The guards were not allowed to listen to their conversation as long as they obeyed the rules – also on the personal order of the Minister himself."

"Has there been any attempt to locate Narcissa?" Severus asked.

Kingsley nodded.  "But that's the strange part – she hasn't left Malfoy Manor!  She was right there when we got there, hadn't made any attempt to run away.  Said she was shocked to find out that Lucius had escaped and we were welcome to search the place, which we did.  Didn't find a thing."

"The Ministry has searched there before and found nothing," Severus drawled, "even when there was quite certainly something to find."

"Then what was the point of the visit at all?" Minerva demanded irritably.  "Even the Ministry's not _that_ stupid!" 

"They haven't arrested her," Kingsley pointed out.  "She's too well connected for Fudge to allow it without very solid evidence – and we don't have any!  If she'd fled, even _he_ would have had to admit it was suspicious."

"That's probably why she remained at Malfoy Manor," Severus commented. 

"Did you learn anything from the site?" Minerva asked.

"Not from the site, but the examination of the guards _may_ have turned something up, although none of us know what to make of it even if there's anything to it at all," Kingsley admitted.  "All the guards were subjected to a battery of tests, checking their condition both for health reasons and security ones.  They started with the guards that had the most contact with the prisoner, and worked there way through to the ones at the entrance to the building.  Everything was fine until they checked the last pair – the ones posted at the door – and then one of the Healers said that they seemed to her to have been hit with a Confusing Concoction.  Three other Healers said _they_ didn't detect anything, which is really the part that seemed strange about the whole matter."

"Confusing Concoctions are _not_ difficult to detect," Severus said authoritatively.

"The Healers all agreed on _that_," Kingsley said, "even though they _didn't_ agree on whether the guards at the door had been subjected to one.  The Healer who thought she had detected it double-checked her results – and she did say once it seemed a little odd – but even the others who disagreed with her seemed to think she knew what she was doing.  I had a quiet word with each of them later, and they all believed that _she_ had detected it even though they hadn't – and in spite of the fact that none of them could explain how that could be!"

"I have a hard time believing it myself - not eating or drinking anything offered to you while on guard duty is really pretty basic – so I don't see how it could have been administered, but it seemed pretty odd so I thought I'd mention it."

"What do we know about those particular guards and that Healer?" Minerva asked.

"I don't think they could be in collusion in this," the Headmaster declared firmly.  "The reason Mary became a Healer was because of what happened to her sister, Alice, and one the guards, Dervish, was engaged to Elspeth Lovegood before she was killed."

The momentary silence was broken by another question from Minerva.

"What reason did Narcissa give for needing to speak with Lucius?" she asked.  Kingsley looked troubled.

"Well, she hemmed and hawed a bit, but finally confessed that she wanted to talk to him about a divorce.  Insisted that she hadn't known anything about his service to You-Know-Who and hadn't believed it at first.  Then decided to keep up appearances for the sake of their son until he graduated – as long as Lucius was safely in jail 'til then – but she wanted to let him know that she wanted a divorce next summer and talk to him about the arrangements."

"Is that possible?" Minerva asked, looking back and forth between Dumbledore and Snape.

"No," Severus said shortly.  "Don't underestimate the hold Lucius has over her.  If she said it, it's only because he told her to."

"Well, I can't understand why he would have told her to make such a fuss about being _scared_ of him," Kingsley said with some exasperation.  "She said Lucius must have found a way to escape to come after _her _because she asked him for a divorce.  Amelia was back by then, and she jumped at the chance to put a guard on Narcissa, even if she called it 'protection' with the Minister there.  Round the clock guards on her and the house.  And Narcissa didn't look upset about it at all, said she was grateful!"

"Cornelius was present?" the Headmaster asked, his brow creasing.

"Oh, yes.  Patting her on the shoulder the whole time and telling her not to worry, he would make sure that –" Kingsley's eyes widened suddenly.  "_Ah_!" 

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Minerva demanded.

"I believe it means that Kingsley has discovered the reason our dear Minister of Magic was so willing to help the prisoner's beautiful wife arrange a visit with what we are _now_ told is her soon-to-be ex husband," Severus derided. 

"But Narcissa is his _wife_," Minerva protested. 

"Must you be so naïve?" Severus demanded, causing Minerva's eyes to flash angrily. 

"That will do," Dumbledore interjected, as she opened her mouth to retort.  "Severus, have you anything else you would like to share?"

_Blast._  "As I expected, The Dark Lord did not order an attempt to free Lucius," he began, starting with what he had known coming into the meeting.  "He doesn't seem overly displeased about the escape however, although that may be simply because it's a clear sign of the Ministry's incompetence.  On the other hand, orders must be obeyed, and he had ordered the Death Eaters not to try to free Lucius or Georgeson.  He reiterated that anyone who disobeyed such an order would regret it, and Lucius, if found, is to be brought before The Dark Lord if possible – and killed outright if not."

"As we expected," Dumbledore murmured.

"There is something else," Severus added a little reluctantly.  The connection hadn't occurred to him until he heard the news of Narcissa's visit and considered the implications.  "Draco appears to be concealing certain injuries, and has been ever since he arrived.  It's very subtle – I doubt any of the other students have noticed, although Crabbe and Goyle, who have the most opportunity, probably lack the mental equipment – but I have been keeping an unobtrusive eye on him and I'm quite sure that he _is _injured."

"Draco's the son?" Kingsley confirmed.  "Hadn't thought of him.  Do you really think a _schoolboy_ could have played a part in Lucius' escape?"

"That particular _schoolboy_ – who is, by the way, a prefect and in the same year as _Harry Potter_ – is both talented and intelligent," Severus said immediately.  "Growing up under Lucius' tutelage, he doubtless knows a good deal more than material we've included in our curriculum."

"Point taken," Kingsley said easily.  "Could Lucius be hiding out _here_ with the help of this Draco?"

"Highly unlikely, but we'll take steps to be sure," Dumbledore said evenly, but Severus could see the faint traces of worry in his eyes, and felt something within himself clench.

_Please, not Draco._

------------

Severus tried to keep an eye on Draco – even more than usual – so it wasn't until later in the week that he was finally able to slip away to Grimmauld Place to visit Emmeline.

"_Severus_!" she exclaimed eagerly when she saw him enter the drawing room.  She sprang up and rushed forward to catch his hands and draw him over to have a seat on the olive-green settee beside her.  "I'm _so_ glad you came," she gushed, smiling a little shyly at him.

_Maybe absence does make the heart grow fonder – or maybe my being away just made her realize that she missed me! _ It was an encouraging thought, and Severus only disengaged one of his hands from her grasp to reach into the pocket of his robes.

"I brought you another book," he offered, holding it out, but Emmeline barely glanced at the title when she accepted it and set it down on the tea table. 

"That's so _sweet_ of you," she cooed.  Severus' mental wince when she said that – he had a number of admirable qualities, but he was _not_ 'sweet' – was drowned out by the thrill that ran through him at the way she was looking at him.  Her enormous blue eyes gazed at him admiringly, until she dropped them to regard their still-linked hands and added, "I hope you don't mind my _saying_ so," in a rather breathy voice.

"Er –"  Why did he have to start feeling like a stuttering schoolboy _now_, he wondered desperately_._  He was a mature and accomplished man.  "No," he managed shortly, and was rewarded with the sight of Emmeline's blue eyes again, now peering up at him from under the dark fringe of her long lashes.

Emmeline inched closer on the settee.  "You haven't been by to see me lately," she pouted.

"I'm sorry, I've been – busy," he apologized a little stiffly.  Emmeline's fingers had started toying with his hand, and a shiver ran up his spine.  _Is she actually flirting with me, or is this another fantasy?_

"I really _missed_ you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh?" he said weakly.  For some reason, he was having difficulty forming coherent thoughts.  Emmeline nodded, scooting closer, and Severus drowned in a wave of intoxicating perfume.

"I hadn't realized until just recently how _important_ you'd become to me.  Then, not seeing you for so long –" Emmeline's voice caught artistically, and there seemed to be a hint of tears in her eyes.  "My days were so dreary without _you_."

Severus' mouth was dry, and he couldn't figure out what to say.  But Emmeline was practically in his lap at this point, so perhaps he could be forgiven for what he did next.

After all, he had been waiting to kiss her for more than a quarter of a century.


	7. Expected and Unexpected

A/N – Sorry about the delay, but this part is a substantial one, which I hope will make up for the wait.

---------------

Adrienne re-read the parchment a second time, then a third.

_I can't believe I did it!_

_Oh, god, I'm going to really have to scramble to be ready._

A door slammed.

"Don't slam the door, Garrett," she called automatically.

"Sorry, Mom," echoed in the distance.

He did a little better with the bathroom door – probably only because she had just reminded him two seconds before – and in a tiny part of her mind that was not racing with excitement, she wondered how many times she would have to repeat the same instruction before it actually sunk into his head.

Then she re-read the parchment again. _Having reviewed all the_ _submissions, the committee is pleased to accept your abstract, entitled "Developments in Inhalation Delivery: Analysis of Modifications Required in the Brewing Process to Adapt Ingested and Topical __Po__tions for Efficacious Inhalation – Theory and Practice" for publication as part of the Western Regional Confederation of Alchemists and Potion Brewers Quadrennial Conference. Moreover, the committee is pleased to extend to you an invitation to present your findings on this topic, and suggests that three hours would be an appropriate length for your address …_

Having a fairly healthy ego, she had been reasonably optimistic that they would at least accept her abstract, but she hadn't expected to be offered _three hours _for a presentation! The conference was only held every four years, and even having her abstract accepted for publication would have been an achievement – something to mark the start of her return to active research. Adrienne didn't really count the preliminary article in the _Gazette _in the spring; it had been very well received, and she had received some very flattering responses, but that had been written for a much broader audience rather than her professional peers – this was completely different.

As far as actually _speaking,_ well, she would have been thrilled even to be offered a spot on a panel, but she hadn't really expected it. Her specialty was a bit obscure and she hadn't even been able to attend the last conference, which had been held right after Grace was born. But _three hours_ meant that her work was significant enough to warrant a full half-day on the schedule! There were usually less than a handful of presentations that got that much time.

_I've got to make this good,_ she vowed. It would mean a lot of very hard work over the next few months before the conference in December, but if she managed to pull this off …

"What are you grinning about?" Garrett asked.

"I've been invited to make a speech," Adrienne told him.

"A speech?"

"About my work," Adrienne explained, "to a lot of other people who do similar work."

"Okay." Garrett's attention returned to a matter of real importance. "When's dinner?"

_Nothing like children to keep your ego in check._

Adrienne dealt with dinner – and homework questions – and Grace's bath – and bedtime – before she sat down to pen an acceptance of the invitation to speak, wishing idly that there was someone – an _adult_ someone – to share this with. She settled for owling a few friends with the news.

-----------

Adrienne was unsurprised to see Maggie pop out of the fireplace on Saturday. She was expected – but so were Annabel and the baby. She shot a look of inquiry at the dark-haired witch, but Maggie merely smiled and stepped aside for the next arrival.

"_Catherine_? What are you doing here?" Catherine was dressed in a simple, but elegant, navy sheath, and laughed as she gave Adrienne a quick hug in greeting.

"We came to steal you away for a celebration," Catherine twinkled at her. "A speaking invitation like that one certainly deserves a night out on the town with the girls!"

"Michael will keep an eye on the kids," Maggie added practically.

"All _five_ of them?" Adrienne protested automatically.

Catherine shot her a look. "Yes, _Michael_ will watch all five of them instead of _your_ watching all five of them," she said dryly. "He's perfectly capable of handling a little childcare, even if he does happen to be male."

"Not arguing, just asking," Adrienne retorted immediately, hands raised in surrender.

"I'll take the kids back to our house while you change for dinner," Maggie directed.

"I haven't even had _lunch_ yet," Adrienne objected.

"Well, for lunch, you're having supper in Paris," Catherine told her, adding with the frankness of long friendship, "and you're not wearing _that_, so get a move on!"

With Maggie deftly handling the children, Adrienne allowed herself to be swept upstairs to change, quickly slipping into her useful little claret dress and trying to remember the last time she had been anywhere without the children. A little over two hours later, they had finished a delicious meal accompanied by an excellent wine, and were enjoying a fabulously decadent dessert course while laughing at one of Maggie's stories about Michael's courtship.

"So Michael just looked down and told him 'I believe you _dropped_ something' in this very _kind_ tone, and he turned bright red and bolted out of there," Maggie finished.

"Oh, god, I _wish_ I'd seen it," Catherine gasped, dabbing at her eyes between bouts of laughter.

"What about your new husband?" Adrienne prompted. "Didn't he ever do anything unusual to get rid of a rival?" They weren't really tipsy, just pleasantly loose – as much from the momentary lack of responsibilities as from the wine – and it seemed like a good time to indulge her curiosity about Catherine's very hasty marriage.

Catherine shook her head as she tasted a forkful of a tarte tatin.

"_Nothing_?" Maggie prodded. "Come on, we've spilled."

"He didn't _have_ any rivals," Catherine pointed out. "Actually, I don't suppose we really had a courtship either. We just got married."

Adrienne reached over and took Catherine's fork hostage. "_Dish_," she commanded.

"Sorry, Adrienne, but the only, well, silly thing about our courtship was the fact that we didn't have one. And maybe the fact that I had no idea he was at all interested in me until we got engaged," she added reflectively.

"Well, then, what's he like?"

"_Remus_?" Catherine looked surprised. "Didn't you meet him at the wedding?"

Adrienne rolled her eyes, but it was Maggie who answered.

"We both _met_ him – long enough that I _might_ be able to recognize him the next time we meet – but that's _it._ Not a lot to go on. Despite the fact that I _am_ your sister-in-law."

Catherine obviously heard the trace of hurt in Maggie's voice. "Maggie, I'm so sorry. I never meant to upset you. We just wanted to skip all the fuss and get married. It was selfish of us, and I apologize if I hurt your feelings."

Maggie sniffed a little, but conceded, "Well, it _was_ your wedding. You might as well have had it the way you wanted it. It was just a bit of a shock to find out you were marrying someone I'd never even met."

"Which brings us back to the question of what he's like?" Adrienne prompted deftly.

"Well, he's …" Catherine seemed to be at a loss for words. It was some time before she spoke, and then her voice was unusually soft. "You know that quote that goes something like '_There is nothing so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength_'? That's what he's like," she told them, and held out her hand for her fork. Adrienne was fascinated to see pink tingeing Catherine's cheeks.

"Catherine, are you _blushing_?" Adrienne asked, surrendering the fork immediately.

Catherine kept her eyes on the tarte tatin she was spearing with her fork. "Well, I can't talk about him much without sounding goopy, and I positively _refuse_ to sound goopy, so that's all you're going to get. You can make up your own minds when you get to know him."

"Is 'goopy' even a word?" Adrienne asked lightly.

"If it isn't, I just invented it," Catherine parried humorously.

"It was very descriptive." Adrienne spun her spoon idly in her chocolate mousse. "We didn't mean to embarrass you, you know. It's been a long time since I was 'just married' myself. And I'm glad you found someone who makes you feel 'goopy'," she added kindly, wondering privately whether or not this was a good sign. It seemed very unlike Catherine to fall for someone untrustworthy, but still –

"Well, the wedding itself was beautiful," Maggie contributed. "I know you're not crazy about ceremonies like that, but it really was very nicely done – especially on practically no notice."

"I think Severus regarded it as a challenge," Catherine said with a touch of whimsy. "Either that or he was paying me back for sticking him with all the work!"

"Speaking of work, if you need some extra time to get ready for the conference, I'll be happy to take the kids more often," Maggie offered generously.

"Thanks, Maggie. I may need to take you up on that, but I'll pay you and Michael back after the conference," Adrienne promised gratefully. "I wasn't expecting them to want such a long presentation," she admitted. "I may need a vacation when this is over with!"

"With or without the kids?" Catherine asked drolly, and they all laughed. "That reminds me, what does my goddaughter want for her birthday?"

Adrienne shot a comically accusing glance at Maggie, who retorted, "Hey, the puppy was Michael's idea, not mine."

Catherine looked amused. "Does the puppy have a name yet?"

"We've been informed that his name is Pepper," Maggie said dryly, her face softening a little.

Adrienne laughed. "An all-white puppy, and she named him _Pepper_?"

"Annabel says that's his name," Maggie said with some resignation, "and we didn't argue the point, so 'Pepper' he is."

"Grace may want a puppy, but does Grace's _mother_ want Grace to have a puppy?" Catherine asked pointedly.

"An untrained animal – not yet housebroken – loose in the same house as my lab? Not high on my list, but it seems to be important to Grace."

"What about Lempkin?" Catherine proposed.

Adrienne blinked in surprise. "But Catherine, she's yours!"

"I know, but I haven't been able to spend much time with her since I boarded her in the spring – which I would feel much worse about if Ted Zelko wasn't so good with her. I didn't want to take her off the rolls for use in handling nogtails, which is what would happen if I took her permanently out of the country. She's already trained and housebroken, and Ted will continue boarding her whenever you like at no charge as long as you keep her on the rolls. You could always take her for a visit and see how it works out," Catherine suggested.

Adrienne took another spoonful of mousse as she mulled this over.

"If you want to send her along to my house with Grace while you're working, it wouldn't be a problem," Maggie told her. "Having his mother around during the day may help with training Pepper. Certainly couldn't hurt."

"Grace will be thrilled," Adrienne said firmly, deciding to accept the offer. "Thank you. _Both_ of you."

"That's what we're here for," Catherine announced cheerfully, her blue-gray eyes dancing again.

"You'll have to be careful about Tristan's birthday, though," Adrienne added unthinkingly, "as he's decided I'm ready for a new husband."

Catherine and Maggie exchanged quick glances. Bobby's former partner let Maggie take the lead this time.

"What do _you _think?" Maggie asked cautiously.

"Well, I –" Adrienne looked up a little guiltily. "It _has_ been a while now. I'm _not_ ready for a new husband – sometimes I don't think I'll _ever _be ready for that – and I worry about Tristan thinking there's a way to replace his father – but lately I've starting thinking that it might be nice to have someone to do things with," she tried to explain wistfully, "_adult _things."

"Sex?" Maggie questioned very directly.

"I was thinking more along the lines of an occasional visit to the opera," Adrienne clarified drolly. "Not that I don't _miss _sex, but at this point I'd be happy to have regular conversations with someone who doesn't think Cheerios is both a breakfast food and a toy!"

Catherine spoke up then. "That sounds perfectly normal," she said gently, "and I can't imagine Bobby wanted you to spend the rest of your life alone."

"You don't think it's too soon?" Adrienne asked weakly.

"Of course not," Catherine replied bracingly. "It's been over four years, for heaven's sake. How much of your life did you think you had to give up just because your husband died?"

This eminently practical perspective swept away fears Adrienne had been afraid to admit she felt. Catherine had only ever known Adrienne as Bobby's wife – well, his wife and his widow. She hadn't realized until she was already into this conversation how much Catherine's acceptance meant to her.

Maybe it was because Catherine was so closely associated in Adrienne's mind with Bobby – and Catherine was probably the person who knew him best, other than Adrienne. Catherine's permission to start dating again – and Adrienne admitted to herself that she had been asking for that permission, albeit in a very roundabout way – was probably as close as Adrienne could ever get to having _Bobby's_ permission to move on with her life.

But Catherine was looking at her with only sympathetic understanding in her blue-gray eyes, and even Maggie was looking unusually compassionate.

"If you're thinking we're going to tell you that you should have immolated yourself on your husband's funeral pyre, think again," Maggie said acidly, adding with a sniff, "an idea only a _man_ could have come up with, I've always thought!"

Adrienne felt her eyes tearing unexpectedly, but she managed a watery smile. "I don't know if I've mentioned it lately, but you two are the best!"

------------

_Early winter, 1997_

Emmeline nestled prettily against him, and Severus tried to hide his dissatisfaction. The problem was that he had nothing be dissatisfied _about_.

He and Emmeline had been lovers for a while now, and the sex was – well, it was fine, he supposed. Emmeline was a beautiful woman. She certainly aroused him, and physically, he had no cause for complaint. He had just expected to feel more connected to her, more – well, just _more_.

"Emmeline?"

"Yes, lover?" she cooed, squirming kittenishly.

"Are you satisfied with our lovemaking?" he asked awkwardly, wondering why he felt so uncomfortable. Considering some of the things they'd _done_ there was no reason for him to feel uneasy with such a mild reference to them.

Emmeline peered up at him, blinking her long dark lashes. "Why, Severus, how can you even ask?" she pouted. "You know you and 'little Sevvie' are just the _best_." Considering what her hand was doing, it didn't seem like a tactful time to tell her how much he loathed that particular nickname.

"How is everything with the Order?" she asked casually as she continued to stroke him.

"As expected," he said neutrally, concealing his irritation at the question. He had told her repeatedly that Albus had instructed him not to discuss the Order with her. Considering her betrayal of the Order, she ought to have been more understanding, but she started asking again when they became lovers and pouted when he refused to answer. In desperation, he had finally switched from outright refusals to meaningless answers, but he couldn't help wishing she'd have the consideration not to keep bringing it up.

"Are they making much headway in evaluating recruitment efforts among the –"

Severus hauled her hard against him and silenced her mouth by kissing her aggressively. "Surely we can think of better uses for those delectable lips," he suggested.

-----------

Severus added the last of the Advanced Potions essays he had graded to the stack with satisfaction. The seventh-years were coming along nicely – not that he'd ever say so. There was still more than half the year to go, but their performance on the N.E.W.T.'s was not going to disgrace him. He no longer had to put up with the worst of the fumblers at this point. Potter was still irritating, but the Granger girl partnered him and kept him from any overt disasters. His work was hardly inspired – Draco was still much better even if Granger held the advantage in marks so far – but his presence in the classroom was less intolerable than he had thought it would be when he allowed Minerva to convince him to accept the boy into his advanced class.

_And next year, no more Potter in class at all! _ Severus allowed a rare smile to cross his face, before his thoughts wandered back to Draco's essay. There was something teasing his mind about a point Draco had made on stability –

He had just located the paragraph he wanted in Draco's essay when the Headmaster summoned him, and he was forced to set it aside.

Minerva and Kingsley were both in the Headmaster's office when he arrived.

"There's been a development in the investigation of the theft of firewhiskey yesterday from the Three Broomsticks," Kingsley reported when they were all seated.

"Are you still thinking that a student did this?" Dumbledore asked, sounding troubled. "I hate to think that one of them would abuse the town's hospitality that way."

"I'm afraid so. We found a scrap that appears to be torn from a student robe, but that's not actually why I stopped by. We had another one of those weird detection debates again. Healers debating about whether or not a Confusing Concoction was used?" Kingsley reminded them. "But this time we may have caught a break. All the Healers agree that one of the people we tested _was_ hit with a Confusing Concoction."

"Who was it?" Minerva inquired.

"Janice Hooper," Kingsley replied. The Headmaster frowned thoughtfully.

"Didn't she have some sort of chronic medical condition?" Minerva asked.

"An ailment affecting her lungs, I believe," Dumbledore interjected.

"Well, they all agree that a Confusing Concoction was used on _her_, although they _don't_ agree on whether or not the others in the bar at the time were subjected to one or not," Kingsley reported. "And she and Rosmerta both insist she didn't have anything to eat or drink – she came by to talk with Rosmerta about some Merchants' Association business – so that doesn't make any sense either."

Severus' mind sorted quickly through the new data. "Airborne," he announced. The others turned to look at him with varying degrees of surprise.

"You may be right," the Headmaster said reflectively after a momentary consideration. Minerva frowned.

"I thought inhalation potions were too unreliable to be used effectively?" she questioned.

"They have been," Severus agreed. "Managing the stability of the potion during the conversion to an aerosol form has proved impractical. It has also been nearly impossible to adjust the concentration properly. The rate of absorption through the lungs is very different from the rate of ingested absorption, but the relationship between those rates varies greatly – by potion, and sometimes apparently by individual. It's a very tricky subspecialty, but it has received some attention in the mainstream press lately."

"So you think someone has figured it out," Kingsley concluded, his expression unusually serious. "How do you defend against an airborne potion when you don't even know it's there? I can think of some temporary measures that could be useful if you knew they were needed, but we can't all just give up breathing permanently as a precaution!"

"I don't know that we need to panic just yet," Severus replied acidly – partially to cover his own concern. "We've only seen _one _potion used this way – a Confusing Concoction – so it may be that our unknown potion brewer just hit upon an acceptable way to modify it for inhalation simply by trial and error."

"Could any of the students have come up with such a modification?" Dumbledore's voice was very gentle. Severus' lips tightened.

"We can't rule it out," he said shortly, before turning to Kingsley. "Can you get me that scrap of cloth?"

Kingsley sighed, and heaved himself out of his chair. "If it's important," he agreed, "I'll come up with some excuse for getting it out of evidence. I'll be back shortly."

Later that afternoon, Severus stared down at the damning results of his consanguinity test for several minutes before summoning a house-elf to return the student robes he had examined and returning to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore looked up when he entered.

"Well?" the Headmaster asked.

Severus dropped the scrap of cloth on his desk and said one word – "Draco" – in a very tight voice. There was a painful silence until the Headmaster gestured Severus to a chair.

"It was his robe?"

"Goyle's. But he hasn't the brains for the potion work – wouldn't have hit on it even by trial and error – and Draco does. I re-read a portion of his last essay for Advanced Potions – it had already caught my attention this morning and I was taking another look at it when you summoned me – and some of his comments show a little too much knowledge about stability issues. Not to mention my suspicions about Lucius' escape just before the start of term."

The Headmaster turned his head to gaze out over the lake. "How do you want to handle this?" he asked quietly, "keeping in mind that neither of these activities means that he has joined the ranks of Voldemort's supporters."

_Am I supposed to be thankful for small favors?_ Severus wondered bitterly.

"If Lucius were in favor with the Dark Lord at the moment, the situation might be rather different," he pointed out sardonically. "If that changes again and Lucius _does_ come back, he could very well bring Draco with him. Even if the only potion Draco can manage to convert successfully is a Confusing Concoction, it's still fairly impressive – especially at his age. I don't think it will be quite enough, standing alone, for Lucius to use to get back into the Dark Lord's good graces – which is lucky for me. I am still his only real potions expert, but if Draco comes in as a future potion brewer, my position will become much more difficult."

"Draco can't have anywhere near your skill," the Headmaster said confidently, turning back to face him.

"I wasn't looking for a pat on the head," Severus retorted irritably. "I pointed that out because I know how the Dark Lord's mind works. He will see Draco's talent as something to be nurtured – which it should be – in case it becomes useful in the future. But from that moment on, it will tip the scales a little more against me every time he has to decide whether it's worthwhile to keep me around! I've been pretty safe – and therefore pretty free to maneuver above the squabbling in the ranks because they all know he needs me – and that would start to change. At some point, Draco would be good enough that I would become just as disposable as most of his other followers – and then I would no longer be of much use to you or the Order either. Draco doesn't have to be anywhere _near_ as good as I am to be good enough to tip that balance against me."

"Well, we can keep trying to locate Lucius and get him back into custody before he comes up with a way to recover Voldemort's favor, but neither the Order nor the Ministry have had any luck locating him. I don't know how he's managing to stay so perfectly well hidden for this long. I might actually have thought –" Dumbledore broke off and shook his head. "But neither Draco nor Narcissa are _that _good at charms," he muttered. "Anyway, we're already doing what we can on that front. Is there anything else we can do for Draco?" Severus' lips twisted momentarily.

"I could ask him to assist me in some extra-credit research on inhalation potions," he suggested. "If the Ministry or St. Mungo's were to request my help, perhaps. In addition to letting me keep an eye on him, it would bolster my position as an expert in the field and provide some ammunition if I need to cast doubt on Draco's skill in the future. I would be able to claim any expertise he demonstrated was a result of assisting me in my work." Severus winced inwardly as he made the suggestion. He might be a Slytherin, but he was rather fond of Draco and proud enough of his achievement not to wish to rob him of it. Severus thought his own accomplishments in the field could stand on their own.

_Besides, a student's achievements reflected well on his professor. _

_Just because I don't mollycoddle my students doesn't mean I'm not a good teacher. _The wolf had been out of the classroom for more than three years, and his name _still _came up at times as an instructor of unusual skill.

_I've been here more than a decade now – closer to two – and you'd think they'd realize what I've achieved just by looking at the N.E.W.T. results, _he mused with some irritation. __

"Very well," the Headmaster was saying. "I think, however, that now that the Ministry has discovered the robe, I will need to try to locate the stolen firewhiskey in the castle if it is not returned voluntarily. I'll make an announcement at supper tonight for a search tomorrow evening."

------------

The firewhiskey had been returned anonymously – well, all but two bottles had been returned, and the coins accompanying the liquor were more than ample to cover the price of the missing bottles – so that problem was averted. Draco had been properly appreciative of the honor of assisting the Potions master – and Head of Slytherin House – in a special research project at the Ministry's request. He had been even more appreciative when Severus repeatedly refused requests from the Granger girl for an extra-credit research project of her own. The new research team had managed a decent start on the project before the start of the winter holiday had arrived – yesterday had been the last day of classes – and Severus felt he had earned the very pleasurable evening he was spending with Emmeline at Grimmauld Place. Since the news of the project had been published in the _Daily Prophet_ and Dumbledore had not asked him to conceal it, he felt it was reasonable to share some of the basic information with Emmeline.

"Just to explore the possibilities of converting potions for inhalation," he explained simply, admitting inwardly that he was bragging a little. "It's been tried from time to time over the years, but no one has had much luck with it. The Ministry has asked me to take another look at it."

Emmeline cast a quick, oddly _nervous _glance at the perfume flagon sitting on her dressing table, then caught herself and smiled sweetly at him. "Well, no one has ever asked _you_ to work on it, or I'm sure that particular potions problem would have been solved a long time ago," Emmeline cooed, running her hand up his chest. "So tell me, how is the search for Lucius going? Does the Ministry have any new leads?"

But Severus' mind had made a troubling connection.

Dumbledore had told him _not_ to tell Emmeline that Lucius had escaped.

He, Dumbledore, and Minerva were the only ones who even knew where Emmeline was. Severus hadn't told her about Lucius. Unless Dumbledore or Minerva had –

_How had Emmeline known that Lucius was free?_

His body made the shocking transition from being pleasantly satiated to painfully alert in the space of a heartbeat. Every sense was amplified, every nerve on edge. He reached over lazily to pick up his wand off the nightstand, and as his hand closed around it he allowed his eyes to meet Emmeline's deeply blue ones.

"_Legilimens,_" he whispered, and saw her eyes widen.

> > > _Emmeline was watching Lucius – asleep in the same bed in almost the same position Severus Snape now occupied – and her face was transformed as she watched him with the fanatical adoration of mindless worship._
>>> 
>>> _"Do I really have to?" she asked, not really arguing._
>>> 
>>> _"It won't be for long, Lina," Lucius assured her. "Just long enough to get something we can use. It's the only way back, but I have complete confidence in your ability to get what we need from him. After all, who could resist you?"_
>>> 
>>> _"But he's so –" she made a face, and Lucius laughed._
>>> 
>>> _"Needs must, little Lina.__ And he does have brains," he warned her. "Don't underestimate him."_
>>> 
>>> _"He isn't you," she objected._
>>> 
>>> _Lucius gave her a lazy smile that didn't reach his eyes. He slid a hand around her and cupped her against him. Emmeline trembled. _
>>> 
>>> _"You can't expect to have everything, now, can you?" Lucius told her wickedly. _
>>> 
>>> _"All I want is you."_
>>> 
>>> _"And you'll have me. You just need to have him for a while too."_
>>> 
>>> _"Promise me," Emmeline begged, and Lucius lifted a single perfectly arched brow in inquiry. "Every time I have him I can have you."_
>>> 
>>> _"I suppose it would be one way of ensuring you're properly – enthusiastic," he mused idly._
>>> 
>>> _"Twice!" she bargained._
>>> 
>>> _"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Lucius said __ind__ulgently, his eyes flickering across her form in appraisal. "Trust me, Lina, you've nothing to worry about. When have I ever failed to take advantage of an opportunity?"_

Severus, sick inside, saw Emmeline as though he were seeing a stranger – a beautiful, but vapid woman of no character – and everything was finally apparent in her face. All the focus on outward appearance – staying beautiful for the golden god she served.

Mindless books and worrying about her hair.

The artistically arranged scenes and artificial tears.

_How could I possibly have fallen for this?_

Then, after the eternity of another heartbeat –

_Am I really that shallow?_

Emmeline was beginning to recover from his invasion of her mind. She was pulling away from him, scrambling across the enormous bed toward her own wand on the opposite nightstand.

_Emmeline used to be an Obliviator._

He knew what she was planning as surely as if she had announced her intentions out loud. But Severus' wand was already in his hand, and he knew what he had to do.

"_Ob__liviate_!"

Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and Severus quickly returned his wand to the nightstand.

"So that's everything I know about progress on the potions front," he said conversationally. "Although I can't imagine why you wanted to hear it." The teasing tone in his voice came with an effort. He wanted to storm – or run – out of there and never come back. But he couldn't. He had to get through this night without letting Emmeline realize that he knew the truth. "I told you you'd be bored out of your mind with all the technical details, and from that glazed look in your eyes, I can see that I was right!"

Emmeline blinked a few times, and he watched her recover the mask she wore when she was with him. "Why, Severus, you know I just _adore_ listening to you talk about your work," she cooed. "It's absolutely fascinating!" She was slithering back across the bed toward him, and he realized what she intended.

_Oh, god, I can't I can't I CAN'T!_ One part of his mind screamed out in protest. The thought of her touching him now, knowing that she was really –

_You have to_, the last fragment of rationality warned him. _She must not realize that you know._

So as Emmeline began to touch him with her treacherous hands, he pasted a smile on his face and prayed for strength.


	8. Back to Dumbledore

"Ah, there you are Severus. What can I – " Dumbledore caught sight of Severus' face as he came more fully into the light. "_What happened_?" he asked in a very different tone.

There was no point in delaying the inevitable. "Emmeline has been whoring for Lucius," he said succinctly. The Headmaster's mouth tightened briefly, and anger flared in his eyes. He reined it in fairly quickly, although Severus could sense it just below the surface.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Dumbledore said calmly, taking a seat. He studied Severus with concern; the younger man met his gaze levelly, praying Dumbledore would let this alone, just for a little while. The wound was too raw. If the Headmaster insisted on probing it he wouldn't be able to get through this meeting, and right now he desperately needed help.

Severus didn't need sympathy, he needed a plan.

"What is your take on the situation?" Dumbledore asked at last.

"Lucius has probably been at Grimmauld Place since the escape," Severus admitted wearily. "The fact that he didn't go to the Dark Lord for all this time means he's planning something - either big enough to restore his position when he finally does appear before him or big enough to replace him. Proof that I've betrayed him would qualify for the former, but he seems to be holding it in reserve."

"Is Lucius aware that you know?"

"No." His lips twisted in painful self-mockery. "Emmeline is not that good."

"Could he be there with Voldemort's approval?"

Severus hesitated. "I find it hard to believe he would allow me to live if he knew how I had betrayed him - and Emmeline is proof of that. I would not be able to smooth that over; the Dark Lord ordered her brought before him too long ago." The only possibility for preserving his credibility with Voldemort would be for him to turn over Lucius and Emmeline - preferably dead, or at least in no condition to answer questions - before they turned him in. He knew Dumbledore would never agree, which left him in a very precarious position. It was only a matter of time.

"You can't go back," Dumbledore said at last, then just as Severus was about to protest, he added, "to Voldemort or to Grimmauld Place."

"You cannot seriously – "

"I will see that Lucius and Emmeline are handed over to the Ministry, but we cannot expect to be able to maintain your cover under such circumstances."

"_No!_" Severus protested almost violently.

"Severus – "

"That is _not_ the solution." He had _not_ endured what he had this night for nothing.

"I don't know what else we can do at this point without placing you at undue risk."

"There _must_ be a way to handle this without abandoning our original objective," Snape insisted harshly.

The problem was that he was in no condition to figure it out at the moment. Simply getting through the evening with Emmeline had taken too much out of him. He had expected the Headmaster to be able to come up with a plan for preserving their original objective - not for aborting the mission. He had lived with this for literally _years_, he would not fail just as the Potter boy was nearly ready - certainly not because of Emmeline and Lucius. The tide of fury at the thought was almost enough to drown out the persistent pain.

"Perhaps Catherine might have a suggestion?" Dumbledore suggested at last. "I have found her counsel useful in the past."

Reluctantly, Severus nodded his agreement. He was reasonably sure she would have enough sense not to try to sympathize with him.

On the other hand, she was married to Lupin.

Catherine, when summoned, agreed to join them in Dumbledore's office, arriving immediately via Floo powder in a flare of green flames. She had come in her dressing gown, and was as matter of fact about her informal attire as she was listening to Dumbledore's succinct summation of the situation, much to Severus' inward relief. When the Headmaster finished, she was silent for a few moments as she considered.

"It seems that we need to pre-empt them somehow - destroy their credibility with Voldemort before they destroy Severus', " she said thoughtfully. "Lucius isn't really an issue for us, the real problem is Emmeline. The fact that we've been hiding her all this time is what could trip us up."

"Exactly," the Headmaster agreed with a sigh. "I must admit that I did not foresee this when deciding upon the course of action we took last year. It did not occur to me that Emmeline would wish to continue to serve Voldemort after he had effectively ordered her execution, but apparently I underestimating the strength of her attachment to Lucius."

"What if we turn that around?" Catherine mused. "Let Voldemort think _he_ underestimated _Malfoy's_ attachment to _Emmeline_?"

"And allowed himself to be captured and taken into custody by the Ministry?" Severus sneered, but Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Knowing that he would be unharmed while in custody and having already arranged a prompt escape," the Headmaster proposed. "Lucius told her to wait for him at Grimmauld Place, having learned about it from Narcissa." Catherine raised an eyebrow in inquiry, and he explained. "Lucius' wife Narcissa was one of Sirius' cousins."

"Emmeline did allow Lucius access to Grimmauld Place, notwithstanding the Fidelius Charm protecting it. She must have retained the note you wrote her so that she would have it available for exactly such a purpose."

"So we twist that too," Catherine continued. "Emmeline was acting for the Order, trying to gain information as a double agent, pretending to Lucius that her loyalties were with Voldemort. Is there anything we can tie to her instead of you?" she asked Severus. "This could actually work to our advantage. Voldemort's been getting suspicious about a spy," Catherine smiled slightly, "so let's give him one."

Dumbledore frowned. "My dear, I really cannot allow – "

"I'm not suggesting we turn her over to him," Catherine interrupted. "Frankly, it would be much too risky. We need to keep her out of his hands, but that's no reason we can't allow him to _think_ she's the double-agent who's been responsible for the leaks."

Severus turned this scenario over in his mind. "While this particular plan has potential, we have yet to address the most significant issues."

"Lucius and Emmeline," Dumbledore agreed.

"Emmeline turns Lucius in to the Ministry – we'll need Kingsley for that - now that she's discovered that he's no longer providing valuable intelligence, having been working to further his own interests rather than Voldemort's," Catherine proposed. "The public is told she's been a captive and managed to escape. Sketchy on details for security reasons, but big play on the heroine line for the press. Malfoy goes back to prison, and Emmeline goes off somewhere quiet to recover."

"The Dark Lord will, of course, know that the public account is a lie, but that may lend more credence to the story that we wish him to believe," Severus said with an air of concession.

"A workable plan," Dumbledore pronounced, an unusually steely glint in his light eyes. "If it is presented to Emmeline as a _fait accompli_, with Lucius already in custody, I believe I will be able to convince her to cooperate. Her options at that point will be severely limited."

"We should try to get Lucius to believe she turned him in if we can. I'm not overly optimistic about the Ministry's ability to _keep_ him in custody." Catherine regarded the Headmaster with slightly wry resignation. "I suppose you'll have to continue to protect her, but I would suggest some place out of the country this time, preferably with someone to keep an eye on her." Her casual comment brought back to Severus the enormous magnitude of his failure - Dumbledore had trusted _him_ with this task and he had failed abysmally - and another spear of pain stabbed him.

Something of this must have been revealed in his expression - yet another failure on his part - for Catherine, when her eyes fell on him, told him abruptly, "That wasn't a slam at you, Severus. I don't see how you - or anyone else - could have expected Emmeline to behave like such a _colossal_ idiot." He was silently grateful that she continued on without appearing to expect any further response from him. "What kind of a timetable are we looking at for this?"

Dumbledore looked gravely thoughtful. "I believe I will be able to secure an appropriate place for Emmeline, but it will require a little time to arrange. The matter of arranging for Lucius' arrest is a simple one, of course, since we will be able to look to Kingsley and Tonks for assistance."

"Now that I think about it, aren't they the ones who arrested him last time?" Catherine objected. "We don't want to draw too much attention to them in the wrong way."

"You have a point, but I think we can risk it here," the Headmaster decided. "They can claim to have been on his trail because they were determined to bring him back to justice after having captured him themselves the first time."

"I'm a little more worried about Voldemort than about any Ministry officials," Catherine returned, "but we probably don't have a lot of time here, so I guess we can't worry about it now anyway."

"If you will let me know as soon as you have made the necessary arrangements, I will be ready," Severus interjected stiffly. The Headmaster glanced over at him, and Severus wished silently that this conference would end quickly and he could retire to his dungeons to nurse his wounds in peace.

"You will not be needed for this, Severus."

"I assure you that I am perfectly capable – " he could hear the shrill note in his own voice and knew he was revealing too much of his pain, so he stopped speaking abruptly. Dumbledore probably had a very accurate idea of his current emotional state, but that was no excuse for displaying it.

The Headmaster rose, walked over to him, and grasped his arms, gently but firmly pulling Severus up and out of his chair to face him. If Dumbledore's eyes had been too kind, Severus might have broken down then and there, but they were very firm instead, and Severus was silently grateful to have been spared this humiliation. "Whether or not you are capable is not an issue - you will not participate in this aspect of our plans any further. You may continue your work with Voldemort as long as you wish to do so and it can be done without undue risk, but there is no need for you to have any further contact with Emmeline. I would not ask it of you, nor would I allow you to offer." Severus gave a short jerk of his head in reluctant - and relieved - acknowledgment, and the Headmaster released him, sighing. "I believe it would be better if you were not even here, however I am – "

"Potions conference," Catherine interjected, and Severus realized that he had actually forgotten she was in the room for a moment. The Headmaster looked thoughtful.

"Is there a suitable conference at the moment?" he inquired. "I confess I have not been keeping up with some of my journals lately."

"It's the Western Regional - well, something or other - and it's next week," Catherine supplied with a shrug. "Well, this week, by now."

Snape cast around in his mind for the conference information. "The Western Regional Confederation of Alchemists and Potion Brewers Quadrennial Conference." He looked at Catherine. "I was unaware that you subscribed to the _Journal_," he added. While there were many journals, the group of people who subscribed to the only one carrying a notice about the conference would not need to use its full name.

Catherine smiled slightly, obviously amused. "Whatever it is, I don't. A friend of mine is going and asked to use my house there. The conference is being held in a Muggle hotel, and she wanted somewhere more relaxing to stay. There's some other conference at the same time for a group of people who will all be dressed in costume, so the wizards will be able to wear normal clothes without attracting too much attention, but she didn't expect it to be a very restful environment."

Dumbledore was nodding his approval. "That should do very nicely, Severus. I'll see that you're registered immediately."

"Unfortunately, I must point out that registration for that particular conference closed officially three weeks ago," Severus said wearily. It had probably been totally booked for some time before that, he decided regretfully. He remembered reading the notice when it came out in the fall quarterly, but he had not expected to be able to leave Hogwarts during the winter holiday break.

"Nathanial Beaker is an old acquaintance of mine. I don't believe there will be any difficulty in arranging your attendance," the Headmaster assured him.

Catherine rose too. "You're welcome to stay at the house as well if you like," she said casually. "Anything else?"

"Not at present, my dear," Dumbledore told her warmly. "I appreciate your coming on such short notice. Do give Remus my best, as well as an apology for dragging you away like this." Catherine laughed.

"I think I can manage to persuade him to forgive you," she parried lightly, her eyes dancing as she stepped back into the fire and then disappeared.


	9. The 'Married to an Auror' Discussion

Adrienne let herself into Catherine's house and set her suitcase down inside the door. Even though Catherine no longer really lived here – and now rarely even visited – it was as neat and tidy as if she had just had it cleaned. _Blessings on the house-elves,_ Adrienne mused. They were somewhat rarer in America than they had been in Europe – Adrienne still remembered the look on Bobby's face when she'd suggested that they could use one – and she wondered if their attendance on this house was due to her visit, or if they kept it this way all the time.

Adrienne prowled around a bit on the ground floor – plenty of food in the pantry and a thoughtful supply of her favorite coffee – before catching sight of the pool and deciding to go for a swim. Unpacking efficiently in the guest room before slipping into her suit and heading downstairs made her feel that she had accomplished something, and was now entitled to enjoy herself.

She swam lazy laps for a long time, letting her mind wander. No kids to worry about – well, as a parent, you never really stopped worrying, but there was nothing to do about it at the moment – so she could allow herself to drift and just enjoy the sensation of the cool water moving across her skin. After a time, she began to get hungry and padded into the kitchen for a bite to eat. She was just debating whether or not it was worth making a proper meal just for herself when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door and found Severus Snape on the other side.

Even in the heat of the southwest, he was dressed in full black robes, gripping the handle of a silver-trimmed black trunk with a white-knuckled hand. Startled, she raised her eyes to his, and barely held back a gasp.

_What happened to him?_

"Good evening, Mrs. Kearney," he said with mechanical formality. His eyes were agonized in his stiffly set face. "I will be attending the Quadrennial Conference as well, and Catherine suggested that I might be able to stay here." He couldn't possibly realize what his appearance betrayed or he would never have managed to speak so coolly. "If it would not inconvenience you, of course," he added politely, with a brief bow in her direction.

Adrienne's mind raced. Whatever had happened to him must have been bad. Catherine wouldn't have suggested he stay here otherwise, not because of any concern about the house, but because she would not have imposed the company of a relative stranger on Adrienne unnecessarily. Catherine also expected Adrienne to realize that.

"Not at all," Adrienne answered calmly, hoping she was doing a better job of managing her expression than he was. "It will be nice to have the company." She held the door open and waited for him to step inside. "I was just about to make dinner, if you'd care to join me. You have time to get settled in while I get started on the food," she suggested.

"Thank you," he said blankly after a betraying interval during which he appeared to realize that she was waiting for a response.

"You can go upstairs to the bedroom on the left and unpack," Adrienne said carefully, wondering again what could possibly have reduced the capable and intelligent man she had met at Catherine's wedding to _this._ "I'll call you when supper is ready." She watched him nod automatically and start up the stairs.

Adrienne's first instinct was to Floo Catherine, but she had a feeling that if he came back downstairs and found her talking about him, he would be further upset. Resolving to find a safer way to contact Catherine as soon as possible, she went back to the kitchen to decide what to feed him.

He came downstairs when she called him for the simple meal she had prepared – steak, rolls, and a vegetable accompanied by a nice Bordeaux. His conversation was still coming with an effort, so Adrienne supplied a steady flow of nearly meaningless chatter to fill the void. As the meal progressed, she thought he began to relax just a little – when he had first arrived, he looked as though he might shatter under the pressure of his own tension – but that slight relaxation might be solely the product of the nice Bordeaux.

As a Frenchwoman, Adrienne was quite accustomed to wine, but the rate Severus Snape was downing it was still impressive. Fortunately, it – or the time difference – also made him sleepy, and he excused himself immediately after the meal and retired to his room.

----------

Severus appeared at breakfast the following morning looking slightly more composed, although still rather ghastly. He accepted a cup of coffee, refused everything else, murmured something about needing to get to the conference early to attend to something related to his registration and disappeared.

Adrienne was unspeakably relieved to see him go.

Almost before the front door closed behind him she was out of her chair and striding over to the fireplace. She tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace and knelt to stick her head into the flames and said "_Stone House_" very clearly.

What happened next was not what she expected. It felt like a huge hand shoved her violently out of the fireplace. She landed on her butt several feet away, still facing it, and saw the flames from the Floo powder extinguish themselves behind her.

She stayed put for a moment while she worked her way through a string of mental obscenities she could never utter aloud until the kids were fully grown. Catherine and her security! She should never have assumed Catherine would leave the Floo open even from one of her homes to another. Adrienne winced as she struggled to her feet. If Bobby were alive, he'd never let her hear the end of it.

She was straightening her robes when the fireplace flared again and Catherine's husband stepped out of the flames.

"Hello, Adrienne," he greeted her mildly, despite the wand he was holding at the ready. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," she admitted guiltily. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Remus. I was hoping for a word with Catherine and rather stupidly assumed I'd be able to Floo her from here."

"It's no trouble," he assured her kindly, slipping his wand up his sleeve. "I'm afraid Kate isn't due back for a while, but I'd be happy to let her know you'd like to speak with her."

"No, that's all right," Adrienne said quickly. "I really don't want her to Floo here." As Remus' brows lifted slightly she added hastily, "I'm not sure when I'll be in, and it really wasn't that important."

"Well, if everything is well with you, I'll excuse myself and head back," Remus said kindly, his polite acceptance making Adrienne feel even worse.

"Won't you at least have a cup of coffee before you go?" she suggested. "Although I suppose it's a bit presumptuous of me to be offering you coffee in your own house."

Remus chuckled slightly, his amber eyes lighting with humor in a way that reminded Adrienne oddly of Catherine, despite the different colors of their eyes.

"I'd love a cup, thank you, and it didn't seem at all presumptuous. I've only spent a week here myself, so you're probably much more familiar with it than I am."

Adrienne deftly retrieved another mug and served Remus his coffee before seating herself across from him at the small kitchen table. "Actually, I helped a little when she was decorating it," she told him. "It has a few touches of my fantasy home in it. Catherine, being single at the time, could do things with her house that just weren't practical for us with a pair of little wizards running around."

Remus looked around thoughtfully, the open floor plan allowing him to see into the main rooms on the ground floor from his seat in the kitchen. "You did the guest room upstairs," he mused aloud, "and the downstairs bath, maybe parts of the dining room, and the artwork flanking the windows over there." He met her eyes again and smiled. "The guest room is very nice. It really suits the house, and the design takes advantage of the little balcony."

"How did you know that? Did Catherine tell you?"

"No, but I know Kate fairly well," he said casually. "All I had to do was eliminate the things that she chose herself."

Adrienne considered and decided she was not placing enough weight on the fact that the man before her was the one that Catherine had chosen for her husband. She took a deep breath and asked, "Can you tell me why Severus Snape showed up last night looking like he'd been through hell? Because I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing in this situation. He looks like he needs something other than the chance to sit through three days of speeches on potion-making, but I don't know what it is." Remus listened intently to this recitation without any evidence of surprise.

"Kate was very sorry to spring this on you without warning," Remus told her calmly. "She did try to Floo you at home earlier to let you know before he came, but unfortunately she wasn't able to reach you before she had to leave again. Severus needed to be somewhere else for a time, and the conference was the best option under the circumstances. I'm afraid I can't tell you much more than that, but I don't believe Kate expected you to do anything in particular beyond allowing him to stay here."

"Can't tell me or won't?" Adrienne asked shrewdly.

"Can't in this case, although you're quite right that I wouldn't if I could," he replied equitably. Adrienne arched a brow in inquiry and he added with a small sigh, "I'm afraid Severus is not very fond of me. He never would have chosen to confide in me, and I won't use the fact that he has taken my wife into his confidence to intrude on his privacy. If he wants me to know what happened, he'll tell me himself."

"That doesn't bother you?" she asked curiously. "Catherine not telling you, I mean."

"No, _that_ doesn't bother me." Was there a slight betraying emphasis as he spoke? "She would tell me if I asked, I'm just choosing not to ask."

"I guess that makes sense." Adrienne took a sip of her coffee. "Bobby never wanted to talk about his work with me, so I'm probably projecting a little."

Remus shot her a quickly assessing look before shifting his glance away.

"You were married to an Auror for quite some time," he said at last.

"Eight years."

"Would you mind if I asked you –" he hesitated.

"Go on," Adrienne prompted.

"There are times when I worry about something happening to her, but I don't want that to affect her work. I hate to think of Kate limiting herself in any way because of me. I wondered if you had any advice you could share with me."

Adrienne sat back in her chair. "The 'married to an Auror' discussion."

"Sorry?"

"I think I'm the one who should be sorry," Adrienne told Catherine's husband wryly. "Spouses of Aurors usually form an informal support network. Traditionally, the partner's spouse organizes the first get-together to introduce everyone. Being married to an Auror does present some special challenges, and it helps to have other people who've had similar experiences to talk to."

"Technically, I'm not sure I qualify, but I do still worry about her being in danger."

"I don't know how much I can help on that front," she admitted ruefully. "When you care about someone, you're going to worry, and none of us have ever figured out how to avoid it. You learn to live with it, or decide you can't, but there don't seem to be many other options." Remus nodded slightly as though this was not unexpected, and Adrienne continued.

"I think the impact of Bobby's work on our marriage was more significant in other areas. We really appreciated the time we spent together, but there was a lot of stuff we didn't talk about because we didn't want to ruin that time arguing about things that weren't really that important." A wistful look came into her eyes then. "But normal couples _do_ argue over stupid things – the Floo bill, or who left the lab door unlocked, or whose turn it is to get rid of the garden gnomes – and the process of working through those is part of what builds your marriage. I don't want you to misunderstand me – Bobby and I loved each other, and I think we had a good marriage – but we didn't share as much as we could have, which is something I'm just as responsible for as he was. I protected him from a lot of the day-to-day irritations of running a household with two small kids, and he protected me from having to deal too much with his work."

"But you felt excluded," Remus said gently, his eyes warm with understanding and sympathy.

"Exactly," Adrienne agreed. "It was as if the Aurors all belonged to a private club, and didn't discuss anything that went on with someone who wasn't a member." She cocked her head to the side in thought. "Catherine was better than most of them that way. Bobby's first partner, when we were still dating, acted like I was a half-wit, incapable of understanding anything about their jobs. The one before Catherine – he was Bobby's partner when we got married – pretty much ignored me, but at least he was fairly polite about it. Catherine's really the first one who ever talked to me." Adrienne took another swallow of coffee. She was talking a lot, but Remus was a good listener and the spouses had often been unusually candid with each other. Unless Catherine returned to active duty, Adrienne might be the only one her husband knew who had been in the something like his position.

"When Bobby got home from a shift, I would ask how his day at work was, and he would smile and give me a kiss and tell me everything was 'fine' or that it had been 'just the usual' or something like that. The first time he did that in front of Catherine, she gave him this _look_ and said something about not thinking it was all _that_ ordinary to have an underground potions lab explode under an elementary school! They talked about it a little, and Bobby saw that I was interested – and not hysterical – and I think it helped. It was also one of the reasons Catherine and I became friends." Adrienne grinned. "I started suggesting we invite her over for supper a lot more often, which I hadn't with the others." Catherine's husband was looking rather thoughtful. "Sorry, I guess I've been rambling quite a bit. I'm not sure how much help I've been."

"Quite a lot, actually, and I really appreciate it," Remus said, glancing at the clock and rising to take his leave. "Thank you for taking the time, especially when you've other plans for the day."

"It was a pleasure," Adrienne said truthfully. "I didn't want Catherine to Floo me when it might upset Severus," she confessed, switching back to their earlier topic of discussion, "but maybe you could ask her to get in touch with me after the conference instead?"

"Of course," Remus agreed immediately, smiling and thanking her one last time before he stepped into the flames, said '_Stone House_' and disappeared.

------------

A/N – A special thank you to those of you who have taken the time to comment on my work – I really appreciate it, and thank you also for your patience in waiting for updates as I juggle this story and _Fallible_. I was beginning to feel guilty about leaving Severus as miserable as he was at the end of the seventh chapter, so I thought I had better at least get him out of there without much more delay – but things will get better for him, I promise! ;-)


	10. Potions Conference

Severus made polite noises as he spoke to Nathanial Beaker at the Muggle hotel, thankful for once that the conversation did not require any actual thought on his part. Yes, he was Severus Snape. Yes, he taught at Hogwarts. The Headmaster was doing very well, thank you. No, he'd never given him any socks (?). Yes, he had left it rather late, but he hadn't expected to be able to attend. No, he hadn't submitted an abstract himself, but he was looking forward to hearing the presentations. Yes, it was certainly much warmer than he had expected. No, he hadn't had a chance to take a dip in the pool. He was staying at a friend's house rather than at the hotel. Yes, some of the Muggle outfits were quite interesting. No, he hadn't seen anyone carrying a sword in a while, either. Very clever of the committee. Thank you, very kind of you to get me in to the featured presentation when seats were so scarce. Yes, it had generated a lot of interest. And attendance was up that much? Well, well. Nice to see that potion brewing was receiving the attention it was undoubtedly due. Yes, I will certainly give him your best, and thank you so much for your assistance.

Normally, Severus found these conversations pointless and inane, but he really wasn't in any condition to take advantage of the opportunity for more intelligent conversation if it were offered anyway.

He followed a very tall witch with kinky, iron-grey hair into a room labeled "Ballroom G" and took a seat in the back while he waited for the presentations to begin. He was one of the first in the room – the hotel staff was still bringing in the morning coffee service and laying out an assortment of pastries. Severus noted absently that they were not casting curious glances at the attendees in wizarding attire, which was unusual, but not enough to rouse his interest at the moment. After sitting, stern and stony-faced, in the back for some time, he finally rose and helped himself to a cup of coffee, more to occupy himself than for any other reason. He was surprised, when he resumed his seat and took a sip, to find the coffee quite palatable.

"Is this seat taken?"

Severus glanced up and, recognizing his unexpected housemate, rose immediately. "No, it's not. Good morning, Mrs. Kearney. I do hope you'll join me." She waved him to his seat again as she took the one next to him.

"Thanks. Did you get your registration problem taken care of?"

"Yes, thank you." Although he knew he ought to say something more, his mind went blank. He was saved by a witch who came up to greet Mrs. Kearney – the first in a steady stream of witches and wizards who came up to speak with her right up until the moment the morning session started.

The same thing continued on the breaks, so that Severus was not surprised to find Mrs. Kearney fielding more than one invitation to join some of the other potion brewers for lunch. The one she accepted was from an elderly Russian wizard whom Severus recognized as one of the world's foremost authorities on variations in potions attributable to the use of different parts of magical plants as ingredients. The older Potions Master courteously included Severus in the invitation as well, and somehow he found himself as part of a large party lunching in the hotel dining room.

Although Severus would normally have preferred to take his meals either alone or with the company of one other congenial colleague, the larger party actually worked out fairly well for him. The conversations flowing around him naturally focused on potion brewing, and none of his unexpected companions displayed the sheer idiocy that Severus had come to expect after years of constant exposure to the really remarkable stupidity of nearly all of his students. It was a refreshing change. It also turned out that the size of the party concealed the fact that he really wasn't contributing much to the conversation. And even to his highly refined palate, the food was quite acceptable.

Almost infinitesimally, Severus started to relax.

Both of the afternoon panel discussions were interesting enough to draw some of his attention, although the inclusion of that bacon-brained Shingleton on the panel discussing the latest developments in equipment was vaguely nauseating. When the names were announced, he glanced over at Mrs. Kearney and caught the look she gave the cauldron manufacturer as his portly frame strode importantly on to the dais. She seemed to realize he had seen her, and glanced over at him. Then she gave him a small, but unmistakable wink.

When the afternoon session finally drew to a close, Mrs. Kearney slipped out fairly quickly, although Severus was certain she could easily have found dinner companions among the assembled witches and wizards. They both left the Ballroom G for a nearby anteroom which had been set up as an apparition point and returned to Catherine Clare's house.

"You already had plans for the evening meal?" Severus inquired, prompted by curiosity as they entered the hallway.

"In a manner of speaking," Mrs. Kearney returned. "Mostly I plan to go over my presentation. I'll grab something from the kitchen to eat, but what I really want to do after I get through my notes is spend some more time in the pool. A little relaxing exercise should help settle my nerves."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Severus said slowly, wondering what he could transfigure into a swimsuit. In the end, he settled on an old set of his black work robes that he had packed unthinkingly. While they were, of course, solid black – it was much simpler to stick to one color and stark black had a useful impact at times – but the texture of the fabric had an annoying chevron pattern to it that he had come to dislike intensely.

Clad in his newly transfigured bathing suit, he plunged into the water and started to swim – back and forth again and again, with a contained violence he unleashed on the clear blue water of the small pool. His strokes were neat and precise, but he sliced through the unoffending water ferociously. He fought off his painful thoughts of Emmeline – or Lucius – or his humiliating betrayal – or how he had failed Dumbledore – and focused only on propelling his body through the water as efficiently as possibly – stroke, stroke, turn, push off the wall, and stroke again.

He had no idea how much time had passed before his body reached a satisfactory state of exhaustion, but he thought it had been dark for a while. He hoisted himself out of the pool, dried himself efficiently, and decided to dispense with supper in favor of sleep. He was vaguely aware of Mrs. Kearney sitting in the drawing room surrounded by an array of parchment – he nodded politely at her as he passed and she returned the gesture with an abstracted half-smile – and was thankful that she was busy enough not to hover over him or force him to make banal conversation. Then he was slipping beneath the sheets, taking some satisfaction in the fact that he had found a way to get to sleep without recourse to a potion.

-&--&--&-

Adrienne stepped off the dais the following afternoon quite pleased with herself, even before she began to receive the compliments – and occasional additional questions – of her colleagues who came forward to speak with her. It was a heady feeling to know that your work had received the approbation of those who were really in a position to evaluate it – people with high standards, who weren't the type to toss off casual or meaningless compliments. She knew a lot of the members of the audience, despite the fact that it was rather larger than she had expected for a specialized subject, and was pleased with the number of people who took the time to wait politely for a private word with her, congratulating her on the success of her presentation – or the underlying research – and welcoming back into the community. There was one wizard she didn't recognize among those waiting to speak with her, but Catherine's friend seemed to know him – although she wasn't quite sure from his expression that Severus actually _liked _him – and he disappeared without speaking to her shortly after a brief, guarded conversation with the Hogwarts Potions Master.

Master Dimitri Anatolii insisted – with his own brand of rather heavy, but well-intentioned Russian charm – that Adrienne sup with him as his guest of honor. He generously hosted a party of ten in a hastily commandeering private dining room at the hotel with a liberal spirit, and as this liberality extended to his instructions to the _sommelier_, the party quickly became a lively one. Adrienne enjoyed herself immensely.

The last day of the conference seemed to fly by. Her own presentation was behind her, so she could enjoy those on the final day of the schedule without worrying about her own. Her colleagues continued to say some very complimentary things about her work as they encountered her on the breaks, and her high spirits made the end of the conference seem to arrive much too quickly. All too soon, she was packing up her things, saying a brief good-bye to her unexpected house mate, and heading over to pick up the children.

-&--&--&-

"Severus! I thought you were remaining at Catherine's for the rest of the week?" The Headmaster's eyes quickly scanned Severus with concern. "You have plenty of time before classes resume."

Severus waved that away. "That's not why I'm back. Proder was there."

"Kieran Proder?" Dumbledore frowned.

"At the potions conference," Severus confirmed.

"Did he say why?"

"Some mealy-mouthed pap about expanding his horizons and always having been interested in potions. Wouldn't have fooled a first-year. Something is definitely up. Proder couldn't brew a simple boil cure potion to save his life," he said scornfully.

"Have you any other ideas about why he was there?"

Severus shook his head reluctantly. "Not without more information. I saw him when he was attending a presentation on adapting ingested and topical potions for inhalation, which made me wonder whether this might be connected to the aerosolized Confusing Concoction we've seen lately, but I can't imagine Proder having the skill to manage that himself. He was worse than Longbottom. I'm going to see what I can get out of Avery, but I though I'd better let you know."

"Very well, but be careful."

Severus turned to leave, but the Headmaster's voice stopped him.

"Severus – "

"Yes?" Dumbledore was regarding him with grave concern, which made him tense.

"I wanted you to know that everything was arranged as we discussed," the Headmaster told him carefully. "There was a piece in _The Daily Prophet_ yesterday, so it is probably generally known by now."

Severus' lips compressed briefly, but his only response was a short jerk of his head before he turned on his heel and left.

-&--&--&-

**_Early 1998_**

It was amazing how quickly and easily Adrienne resumed much of her old routine. The children were no more than politely interested (in juvenile terms, of course) in anything to do with her work, and she quickly slipped back into the familiar patterns of day to day life with Tristan, Garrett, and Grace. But now she felt a little bit of extra zing every time she stepped into her lab – she was making her mark, and even if the children didn't fully appreciate it, there were others who did. Even outside the lab, she tackled even the most mundane of her everyday chores with a touch of zest that had been missing before.

Adrienne had gotten used to taking care of certain things Bobby had done while he was alive. She didn't really mind dealing with the garden gnomes, and you could always pay someone to maintain your broom for you. The perimeter wards she maintained herself, but she had to admit that she really resented it when they woke her up. When Bobby had been sleeping next to her, he was one whose sleep was disrupted. He had always been much better at getting back to sleep afterwards. Once Adrienne was fully awake – which admittedly took a while – she had a very difficult time going back to sleep.

When the wards were triggered that night, she wondered hazily if she could just stay in a semi-comatose state until they switched off again. Bobby had made the blasted things so sensitive that they seemed to be triggered by every passing Clabbert. She had deliberately let them slip a bit during her routine maintenance – if she hadn't, they'd have been going off at least once a week – but there were still too sensitive for her liking. As the wards failed to reset themselves to normal status, Adrienne groaned aloud, then gave in and opened her eyes, blinking vaguely at the spot where the status display charm sat on the dresser. It still showed a single intruder moving toward the house. _Another blasted Clabbert._

The status changed. Now there were two.

Adrienne sat up, her eyes fixed on the status display charm. A third and fourth warning appeared – two additional intruders were approaching the house from the opposite direction.

_This is real! Someone is actually trying to get into the house!_

She was frozen in shock for a moment, then –

_Mon dieu, mes enfants!_

Adrienne was out of bed and racing down the hall toward the children's rooms, wand in hand.

"Tristan! Garrett! Get up," she hissed, shaking first one then the other hastily awake.

"What?" Garrett whined, stuffing his head under his pillow.

"Garrett, _get up_," she ordered, snatching the pillow away with one hand and jerking the bedclothes away with the other. Tristan was slipping his feet into his slippers, looking more alert than a ten year old boy abruptly yanked out of sleep in the early hours of the morning should.

_Guess he got that from Bobby –_

"Tristan, I'm calling a code," she told him, hoping desperately that he remembered enough to make this work and cursing herself for not bothering with drills after Bobby died. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dim light of the nightlight in the hall shift from blue to red.

_They're already in the house._

She dropped her voice to a whisper, "You have to lead Garrett and Grace, they don't know what to do. I'll try to distract them after I get your sister." Tristan nodded once, and Adrienne slipped quietly across the hall. Grace was more docile when wakened, but didn't move very quickly.

"Honey, we're going to play a game," she whispered to her daughter, who was yawning sleepily. "You take Garrett's hand and hold on to it. Follow him, but be very quiet, okay?" She put Grace's tiny hand into Garrett's only slightly larger one and started praying.

She could make out two hooded figures crossing the living room from her vantage point on the stairs. The other two had to be coming in the back. She just needed to keep them away from the fireplace long enough for the children to get out. She managed to get half way down the stairs undetected, but then one of the intruders turned to look directly at her and raised his wand.

"_Stupefy!_" She didn't hear what spell he tried to cast at her, hurling herself out of the way as soon as she got her own spell off. She landed on her side at the bottom of the stairs, and the shoulder of the arm she tried to use to catch herself wrenched painfully. Footsteps echoed across the tile floor, and she rolled behind the sofa.

_I need another distraction._

"_Frango_," she whispered, wincing inwardly, and a three piece Native American pottery set across the room shattered.

Someone collided with the coffee table in the dark, and there was muffled swearing, then "_Lumos!_"

_No, no, NO!_

She couldn't activate the last ward with the children still in the house. Adrienne rose up from behind the sofa and tried another stunner. Just behind her target, she could see Tristan grasping a handful of Floo powder and hurling it into the fireplace. She saw her target start to crumple, and was turning toward the second when something hit her, and time slowed down.

_Forgot to watch your back, didn't you?_

Her body started to fall, and she knew her head was going to hit the end table an eternity before the impact, but that didn't matter. Her eyes were still fixed across the room on the fireplace as her children flickered out of sight in the flames. The command to trigger the last ward was echoing in her brain as her head hit the fireplace and Adrienne blacked out.

-&--&--&-

A/N – Just a little post to let you know that I didn't forget this story entirely, and I _will_ complete it although my progress has been slower than I anticipated. I think juggling two stories at a time has been a little more time consuming than I expected, so I'm refusing to allow myself to start on another one until I finish either this one (most likely as it was always shorter) or _Fallible_ (which has a lot of plot left to cover after posting almost _eighty thousand words_ already). The next one will be set almost entirely in the MWPP era and does not really contain a romance, which is a bit of a departure for me. Well, maybe just a hint of one if you want to read one into it, but the object of his interest is never really identified. But the point is that I'm going to be more disciplined about finishing this up! Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated –


	11. Learning to Tuck In

When Severus reached the Headmaster's Office, he was unsurprised to see Minerva there. He was a little surprised to see that the Headmaster was not.

"Old research room, east tower. Floo access only," she told him crisply, offering him a jar of powder. Nodding his acknowledgment, he made the transfer and stepped out of the fireplace. All the portraits had been removed from the room, but there was a long table surrounded by a generous number of chairs. In addition to the Headmaster, Catherine Clare and the wolf were present, along with Moody, Mundungus, and Kingsley. As soon as Severus moved out of the flames, Minerva joined them.

"Good, you're all here. Please take a seat," Dumbledore requested. "Thank you all for coming. As you know, the full Order will be meeting later in the week, but I wanted your input regarding some recent developments before then. Catherine?"

"Four Death Eaters launched an attack on Adrienne Kearney's home in the states roughly six hours ago, at about two o'clock in the morning local time. For those of you who don't know her, Adrienne is a potions researcher specializing in aromatics and inhalation potions who is also the widow of my late partner. The children made it out safely, but Adrienne is in the wizarding wing at Johns Hopkins in very bad shape, and it will be some time before she can be questioned. Three of the four attackers are in custody in the prison wing of the hospital – I have some contacts who will let me know when they're talking, but it looks like it won't be any time soon. Two of them have been identified as Monroe Wilkes and Gavin Trent. We don't know why they attacked or what their objective was."

"The fourth?" Severus asked.

"Dead," she said shortly. "No identity yet."

"She killed him?"

For the first time, he saw Catherine hesitate.

"I asked if she killed him?" Severus repeated impatiently.

Her report to this point had been succinct, but something changed. In the long moment before she answered him, Severus' sharp eyes caught the subtle shift of the wolf's shoulder that meant he had reached out to his wife beneath the concealing surface of the table.

"It looks like he committed suicide," she said at last.

"_Suicide_?" The disbelief was evident in his voice.

"The last ward on the house was a Dead Man's."

Severus leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to sweep the room.

"A Dead Man's, eh?" Moody said knowingly. "Didn't know you still used 'em. Crazy Amer-" Dumbledore looked at him sharply and he broke off with a slight cough.

Catherine ignored Moody's slip, but her mouth twisted slightly.

"I don't understand," Minerva interjected, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"It's a very rare and difficult spell that can be incorporated into a protective ward – usually the last ward," Catherine said with an unusually grim expression. "I didn't know Robert knew how to cast it. I don't myself."

"But what does it _do_?" Minerva persisted.

"The spell is dormant until it's triggered," Catherine told them. "It must be triggered from inside the perimeter, but once it's activated no one inside can shut it down, not even the original caster."

"_Imperius_ is useless," Moody interjected.

"Exactly," Catherine agreed. "The spell forms an impenetrable barrier which nothing and no one can pass through. It's impervious to attack – magical or mundane – although there's some evidence that magical attacks may actually strengthen it."

"So how do you bring it down?" Minerva asked.

"The original ward identifies who can deactivate it from the outside."

"What if the identified person isn't available?" Severus queried.

"It will go down some time after the person who activated it dies – provided that everyone else within the perimeter of the ward is also dead."

Minerva blanched, and Moody shot her an impatient look. "Why did you think it's called a Dead Man's?" he asked irritably. "Damned dangerous, but I suppose I can understand the thinking. If you're gonna go anyway, might as well take 'em with you."

"Once you're trapped inside, you're helpless," Catherine added quietly. "Activating it commits you to giving your life if necessary, and that's a powerful sacrifice. Any attack on the person who activated it is reflected back against everyone else inside, and anyway, that person couldn't lower the wards even if they wanted to. You can't attack the wards themselves, they only get stronger. All you can do is wait – until you die." There was another long silence.

"But Adrienne and the others got out," Severus pointed out, breaking the oppressive silence.

Catherine ran a restless hand through her hair. "The ward responded to me and I got it down. It seems to have been set not just for me personally as Robert's partner, but for anyone in the delta-six squadron, which unfortunately disappeared in a reorganization a little over a year ago." Her voice caught raggedly in her throat. "Adrienne could have –"

"She _didn't_," the wolf told his wife firmly. "You got it down in time. She's going to be fine." Catherine blinked hard.

"I can't help wondering why Death Eaters attacked in the first place," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, glancing at Severus.

"Her research," Severus suggested immediately. "Her laboratory is in her house, I believe." Catherine nodded. "Did they get it?"

"No," she said flatly.

"Are you quite certain?" he pressed. "There are a number of ways that her research notes, for example, could have been –"

"Severus, I said _no_!" Catherine interrupted angrily.

"Kate – " the wolf's voice was gentle, and seemed to defuse her temper. She ran a distracted hand through her hair and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just – I saw what was left when we finally got the wards down," she said grimly, "and, trust me, you don't have to worry about any betraying scraps of paper getting into the wrong hands."

-> ->-

When Adrienne woke up in an unfamiliar hospital bed, she didn't think once about her research. What she thought about was her children. She kept trying to find out where they were and if they were all right, but she was having difficulty speaking even without the problem of various medi-witches and healers forcing potions down her throat every time she opened her lips. She didn't know whether it was her condition or the potions, but she kept slipping back into unconsciousness before she managed to get an answer.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she woke up long enough to have an actual conversation – everything before was pretty blurry – but her mind was clearer than it had been in some time, and for once she wasn't surrounded by strangers forcing potions down her throat. She wasn't alone, though – Catherine was there.

"_Mes enfants_?" she managed.

"_Sain et sauf_," Catherine assured her.

"_Ou_?"

"_Chez moi.__ En Angleterre_." Catherine wrinkled her nose. "Isn't that supposed to be 'Chez something else' now that I'm married?" Adrienne realized belatedly that she had reverted to her native tongue.

"_Chez nous_," she told her. "Sorry." Catherine shrugged.

"No biggie, but my French is pretty rusty."

Adrienne tried to scoot up in the hospital bed so she was sitting up a little more, and Catherine immediately rose to help her raise the head of the bed. "Thanks. I'm impressed that you remembered 'safe and sound' when I asked about the kids." Catherine's eyes twinkled a bit.

"I figured you would, so I looked it up in a dictionary beforehand," she confessed. Adrienne started to laugh in response, but her chest spasmed at the first sharp exhalation of air. "How are you feeling?" Catherine asked.

"Not bad, but I'm guessing that's the painkillers," she replied. "Everything is soft and woolly. How are they really?"

"Worried about you, but basically all right. Tristan's a little quiet – he's haunting the potions lab whenever there's someone there to supervise. Garrett doesn't really approve of the fact that I haven't fixed it so he can go swimming, but he can understand that charming the pool area in the dead of winter hasn't been a big priority as long as you're in the hospital – I've got a feeling he'll be less sympathetic when you've been discharged. Grace is happy as long as Annabel and Pepper are around."

"Maggie's there too?" Adrienne had been finding Catherine's recitation reassuring until then.

"Michael and Maggie moved in to help out for a bit."

"Why didn't the kids stay with them?" Adrienne demanded shrewdly.

"Because the security's better at Stone House," Catherine said calmly. "Michael's the only one who has to worry about commuting, and he's family, so he can Floo."

Adrienne was about to press the point, but then a medi-witch bustled in to attend to her and shoo'd Catherine out.

-> ->-

"Tristan?"

He and Severus both looked up from their chopping as Catherine appeared at the doorway to the potions laboratory. Severus could sense the boy tensing slightly as though bracing himself for bad news, and tried not to glower at Catherine Clare. Tristan had been spending a lot of time in the laboratory – Severus generally found inexpensive things for him to chop up to keep him occupied – and the older man was aware that he didn't want Tristan upset.

"Your mom's awake and doing much better," Catherine told him. "She wanted to see you, but they gave her another potion to put her to sleep again right away. I can take you with me tomorrow if you'd like?"

"Please," Tristan said in his quiet voice, some of the tension easing. "Thank you, Aunt Catherine."

Catherine looked as though she were going to say something else before her eyes took in the pair of them at the work table, but all that came out was, "Don't stay up too late," before she left them alone again.

Tristan went back to his chopping.

Severus, who was keeping a careful – albeit unobtrusive – eye on him noticed immediately when his chopping became a little uneven. Tristan noticed too, for he stopped cutting and stared blankly down at the imperfect ends.

"Maybe it's time to take a break," Severus said casually, setting his own knife down. He watched as Tristan carefully unfolded his fingers from around his own and set it down too.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said at last. "Maybe I better –" his voice caught slightly "– stop now." Tristan ducked his head down and slid off the stool.

Severus had some experience with people avoiding his eyes, and the way Tristan was doing it told him immediately why the child was behaving that way. Severus reacted in a way that would have surprised him if he had considered it, but he didn't consider it at the time. He simply rose from his own stool and circled the table, dropping down in front of the boy and clasping Tristan's shoulders between his hands. The dark eyes that met his were brimming with tears.

"It's going to be all right," Severus told him gently – if somewhat illogically – and then Tristan burst into tears and hurled himself into Severus' arms.

This time Severus realized how extraordinary this was.

It was not that he had no experience with children's tears – he had certainly reduced enough of them to that state (although it was decidedly preferable to the vomiting, which caused more of a mess when it occurred in the classroom) – but he couldn't recall _ever_ having a child turn to him for comfort in such a moment. Not even the first years in his own house would do such a thing, although he couldn't imagine a Slytherin – even as child – being foolish enough to display such a weakness.

But he wasn't conscious of a feeling of disgust as Tristan sobbed into his robes. He wasn't inspired to berate him for behaving in such an appalling way. Instead, he was wishing he could ease his pain. He found himself holding Tristan as if mere contact would help – such a ridiculous idea – and heard a stream of nonsense coming out of his mouth that didn't at all sound like it could have been produced by Severus Snape. It did remind him vaguely of something from his own childhood, although the memory eluded him when he tried to pin it down.

Tristan's bout of tears was surprisingly brief, ending on a hiccough. "Sorry, sir," he said in a very small voice. Severus deftly retrieved a handkerchief out of a pocket in his robes and started mopping Tristan's face until the boy took the handkerchief from him.

"You should be," he said dryly. "You're quite old enough to carry your own handkerchiefs." For some reason, Tristan found this amusing, and blew his nose into the handkerchief rather harder than expected in response. Severus waited patiently as Tristan finished clearing his nose.

"I meant for being so silly," Tristan explained at last, clutching Severus' now damp handkerchief tightly in both hands. "I didn't cry before or anything, and Aunt Catherine said Mom's going to be fine and I get to go see her tomorrow. It's a really _stupid_ time to cry."

"Human emotions are rarely orderly," Severus pointed out. "I fail to see why yours should be any more so."

"I guess not." Tristan, who seemed to be recovering a bit, looked over at the work table. "I think I'll stop now."

"If you wish to go up to bed, I will clear up your station," Severus said, rising to his feet. It was actually a major concession on his part. He – like every other Potions Master he knew – was absolute in his expectation that anyone working at a station always cleaned up after themselves immediately. Age had nothing to do with it – it was simply the way it was done.

Tristan nodded in acceptance, but then stood there shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. Severus quirked a brow up in inquiry.

"Are you coming up too?"

Severus blinked. He didn't normally stay at Stone House during the term, even if it meant waking Catherine or the wolf to Floo him back to Hogwarts when he was finished working. Then it dawned on him. Tristan wasn't asking if Severus was staying, he was asking if Severus was going to tuck him in. If it weren't for his long experience in hiding his emotions, Severus had a feeling his jaw would have been hanging open.

"You want me to tuck you in?" Severus asked weakly, sure that he must have made a mistake. Tristan nodded somberly. "I don't know any bedtime stories," he objected faintly, saying the first thing that came into his head. _Great response, Severus.__ Really brilliant._

"That's okay." Tristan clutched the wadded-up handkerchief in one hand and reached out to take Severus' hand in the other.

It was a bizarre experience – for Severus at least. Presumably there were adults all over who tucked children into bed at night and didn't think anything of it, but he wasn't one of them. Tristan led him upstairs to one of the bedrooms where his brother was already asleep in one of the twin beds. He took a pair of pajamas from the wardrobe and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Severus standing around blankly wondering what he was supposed to be doing and wishing he had been able to come up with a better refusal. Apparently a lack of bedtime stories wasn't a strong enough deterrent.

When Tristan came out, he was wearing his pajamas – dark blue with gray piping – and was still clutching the handkerchief. "I washed my face and brushed my teeth," he announced expectantly.

"That's, er, nice. Good." The boy was looking at him sympathetically.

"You haven't done this a lot, have you?" he asked.

"No." Maybe he could get out of it.

"That's all right. I can tell you what to do," Tristan said kindly.

_Damn,_ Severus thought.

"Now, you just pull the covers back so I can get in, and then you tuck them in around me afterwards," he explained.

_Oka__y, I can do this._ It wasn't really that horrible. In some ways, it was almost – pleasant.

"Then you say something about my sleeping before you turn off the light."

"Something about your sleeping?" he echoed stupidly.

Tristan nodded. "Mom says, '_Dors bien__ mon petit_.' Dad used to say, 'Sleep tight, kiddo.' Aunt Catherine usually says, 'Sleep well,' and Uncle Remus –"

"I get the idea." Of _course_ the wolf knew how to do this. Severus kept himself from grinding his teeth. "I hope you sleep well tonight," he said at last, feeling the formality a little out of place. It also seemed like something was missing, as if the ritual were incomplete, but Tristan was apparently satisfied with this, and shut his eyes obligingly. Severus was moving gratefully to turn out the light when they flew open again.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Did you want your handkerchief back?"

_Did he want his handkerchief back?_ His damp and crumpled handkerchief which was probably full of mucus? Not if he could avoid it.

"You can keep it," he said evenly, surprised when Tristan smiled at him before closing his eyes again.

He tried not to seem as though he were fleeing the room after turning out the light.

-> ->-

A/N – I've definitely been a little slow on the updating lately, but we now all have an incentive to finish things up any stories we have in the works that will become AU after book 6 is published! I know that this romance has been slow to develop, but I'm assuming that you realize that getting Adrienne and Severus back in the same house will be another step in the right direction. If you're wondering what was omitted from the bedtime ritual, it was the kiss on the forehead – I can't quite see Snape managing that just yet, and I think a perceptive child would sense that. They'll need to work up to it.

Comments and even criticism (constructive, please) are always welcome.


	12. Revelations and Responsibility

A/N - A little on the short side, but so overdue that I thought I would go ahead and post anyway. I've had a chance to resume work on this recently, so hopefully I'll be updating a more often in the future - comments (including criticism) are always welcomed!

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Adrienne woke the following morning with a firm resolve not to allow the medi-witches to keep slipping potions down her throat. In fact, she intended to have some very strong words for the next one who tried.

Unfortunately for the relief of her indignation, the next witch who came into her room did nothing more than note that she was awake and send a breakfast tray in when she did – which was not really the sort of thing Adrienne could protest. She ate the bland, institutional fare with a vague sense of repressed irritation, finishing just before another witch swooped in to collect the tray.

As the morning progressed, Adrienne began to reconsider whether or not she really did want to be awake while she was stuck in the hospital. While she saw a number of members of the staff, each of whom seemed to have an assigned task, none of them said anything at all enlightening – about her condition, or her children, or when she could go home, or any of the other subjects of interest. Instead, they stepped briskly in to perform their assigned tasks and then left just as briskly. By the time Catherine arrived around lunch time, Adrienne was starting to feel rather put upon.

"Shall I ask how you are?" Catherine inquired with a trace of amusement. "I'm not sure it's safe!" Adrienne glared at her.

"No one tells me _anything_," she complained. "Do you know how many people I've seen this morning? I swear, this hospital has taken Ford's idea to the limit! Everyone has one specific assigned task, but for some reason whoever is supposed to tell me what's _wrong_ with me and when I can go _home_ never shows up!"

Catherine listened to this tirade very politely, but with a light in her eyes and a slight tilt at the corner of her lips. "That must be very frustrating," she sympathized.

Adrienne's glare deepened.

"You're _laughing_ at me," she objected, and Catherine proved the point.

"I'm sorry," Catherine apologized when she got her expression under control, "but you sounded so much like one of the kids I couldn't help it." Adrienne's lips twitched.

"That's put me in my place," she observed ruefully, her sense of humor coming to the rescue of her temper.

"Speaking of the kids, I promised Tristan a visit with you today," Catherine began. Adrienne sat up immediately and leaned forward.

"Is he here?"

"Not yet – I wanted to see if you were up before I brought him," she explained. Catherine studied Adrienne's eager expression. "I'm not sure he's awake yet, but why don't I go check?" she offered dryly, turning around and leaving as quickly as she had come.

While Adrienne was waiting for them to return, she occupied herself in calculating what time it was in England and wondering how she would look to a boy of ten who had already lost his father. She didn't want Tristan to feel he had to worry about her, but having his mother hospitalized on top of everything else he had been through seemed brutally unfair. _Nothing I can do about it now,_ she decided, settling back against the raised head of the bed to wait.

When Catherine returned with him a short eternity later, Tristan entered the room with obvious unease, his eyes flying to his mother immediately. Adrienne gave him a big smile and held out her arms to him, so that his face broke into a rare smile and he scrambled up on the bed to hug her. She murmured motherly nonsense and stroked his hair and his back as he clung to her, and finally his grip eased a little.

"You're _really_ all right?" he confirmed anxiously, pulling back enough to regard her with slightly fearful dark eyes. Adrienne smiled away the lump in her throat and smoothed his hair back.

"I'm _really_ all right," she assured him firmly, adding in a teasing tone, "unlike _someone_ who's in need of a haircut!" Tristan gave her a half smile in response, and she settled him down next to her. "So what have you been doing?" she prompted warmly, then added, "other than growing your hair, that is."

Tristan chattered away to her more freely than she remembered him doing for quite a while, much to Adrienne's relief. She made appropriate noises and cuddled him happily, noting that Catherine – who had tactfully stepped just outside the door – was using her post to intercept the previously steady stream of hospital staff members with insignificant tasks to perform. She made a mental note to thank her later.

But one of the visitors who arrived did not leave, remaining with Catherine outside the door until Adrienne brought her visit with Tristan to a close and called for her friend to return as her oldest son – who was now much less tense, if not exactly cheerful – slid down off the high medical bed.

"I think he's ready to go," Adrienne said, her eyes lighting on the angel-faced boy that followed Catherine into the room.

"This is Dana Larson," Catherine told her, "he would like to speak with you if you're up to it?" The lack of any further information made it perfectly clear that this was a conversation Tristan was not supposed to hear.

"Of course," she agreed smoothly. "Do I get another hug first?" After this affectionate ritual, Tristan left with Catherine to head back to Stone House, and Adrienne was left with angel-face.

"Do you mind if I have a seat?" he asked politely.

"Please," she said, gesturing toward the only chair. "Auror?" she guessed, trying to keep her tone fairly neutral. _He doesn't look old enough for an Apparition Ticket, and he's the one they send after evil wizards? Maybe it's me, maybe I'm getting so old that everyone else looks like a child by comparison._ It wasn't a comforting thought.

Despite his youthful appearance, he seemed to be good at his job – well, to the extent his job involved setting witnesses at ease and extracting every possible scrap of information from them. In her case, that wasn't much, so they were basically finished when Catherine returned (again) without Tristan. Adrienne saw the other woman send Tristan a look of inquiry.

"I think I have everything I need," he said, gesturing Catherine in to take his seat as he rose, shrunk his notebook, and tucked it and his recording quill into a discreet pocket of his robes. He turned gracefully to Adrienne to take his leave. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"That's all very well, but _what happened_?" Adrienne demanded. "I know I was unconscious for a while, and there's a pretty big gap between my attempt to activate the last ward and waking up in the hospital. Don't you think I deserve to know what went on?" Catherine and angel-face didn't so much as glance at each other, but Adrienne had the sense that they had come to an agreement on how to respond to her question without exchanging a single word – one of those Auror things that she found so irritating.

"Mrs. Kearney, you may not be aware that the last ward was a Dead Man's," he told her with the air of someone breaking the news gently. Adrienne frowned.

"I'm well aware that my husband is dead," she began with an edge to her voice.

"No, Adrienne," Catherine interrupted, looking rather grave and reaching out to clasp her hand. The dancing light was absent from her eyes. "That isn't what he meant."

As Adrienne listened to Catherine's succinct explanation, she felt her anger building.

"You're telling me that a ward like that has been on _my_ house – with my _children_ inside – all this time, and no one ever bothered to tell me?" she asked dangerously. "I'm surprised it's even _legal_!"

"The use of a Dead Man's Ward is rare, and does require a special permit that needs to be renewed every year," the young man told her. "It was originally granted to your husband due to the nature of his work, and I'm afraid it's been renewed as a matter of course since then." He looked very apologetic. "I tracked down the clerk who has been handling the renewals, and I'm afraid he took a few shortcuts. There's supposed to be an independent verification of continuing need and an annual approval by your late husband's supervisor, since the original justification related to job duties, but the clerk thought it would be easier to confirm payroll status and let it go at that. As your pension payments are still linked to his name in the payroll account, the clerk assumed the status was unchanged and just entered the renewals as they came up. I'm _very _sorry about that, Mrs. Kearney. I've already had a word with his supervisor, and there will be more formal corrective action taken to make sure this can't happen again."

Unable to think of how to respond, Adrienne merely nodded jerkily and turned to stare out the window. A moment later she heard the soft sound of footsteps retreating and then silence.

"How could he _do_ that?" she demanded, turning on Catherine angrily. "How could he take a chance like that with our _children_? Without even _telling_ me? All those drills with Tristan – why didn't he tell me why it was so important?"

_Why didn't I ask? Why didn't I demand to know?_

There were painful tears pricking the back of her eyes. She wanted to scream, but her throat was clogged, and the object of her anger was unreachable.

"If Bobby wasn't already dead, I think I'd kill him for this," she said, barely aware that the hoarse voice she heard was her own.

Catherine's voice, when she replied, was much steadier. "If he weren't already dead, I think I'd let you." The gentle understanding was too much for her. Adrienne swore briefly in French and burst into angry tears.

Fortunately, her friend had sense enough to let Adrienne cry it out, merely handing her a supply of tissues when the emotional storm began to wane.

"Oh, god, that was horribly embarrassing," Adrienne said at last, dreadfully drained. Her face felt hot, her eyes burned, and she could feel the beginning of a miserable headache radiating from the base of her skull. She hated crying.

"Don't be silly," Catherine said bracingly.

Adrienne raised her eyes to Catherine's clear ones. "It's not just that I'm mad at Bobby for doing something like this – without even _consulting_ me –" She suspected the pain was obvious in her voice, but kept going. "I'm mad at myself because I let him. I _let_ him protect me from things I should have known about. I'm furious with him, but he isn't here to yell at – and the only one left responsible for how our marriage worked is _me_."

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Feedback is always appreciated.


End file.
